


A New Beginning: Origin of Heroes

by NightsongR



Series: Miraculous: Tales of the Miracle Seven [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: American Miraculous, Gen, New Miraculous Team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsongR/pseuds/NightsongR
Summary: Ladybug and Chat Noir protect Paris from Hawk Moth. The citizens love them, the criminals fear them, and they face a new villain every other day, if they're lucky.But what about the other miraculous around the world?When Hawk Moth begins using the butterfly miraculous for evil, the Ladybug and Black Cat aren't the only miraculous to awaken and choose new users. Across the ocean, miraculous that haven't been used in over a century stir at the awakening of evil, and new chosen must learn to wield them, without any help from generations past, and with only their kwamis to guide them.Can they protect an entire nation? And can an entire nation accept the new heroes?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Welcome to my first multi-chapter fanficition story in a long while, and the first I've ever written for the Miraculous Ladybug fandom! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Be sure to read the author's note at the end!

The rails clacked along beneath the metal wheels of the train as it sped along the tracks. Heroic Eagle marveled at how fast the machine traveled. The steam engine had only been introduced to the States a few years before, and was still fairly new technology, but had quickly proven its worth to the country’s business moguls, and enterprising citizens had quickly taken advantage of the fact, designing dozens of new locomotives for the American rails.

The 4-4-0 that Heroic Eagle was on was heading for New Orleans, having been rented out specifically for a New Year’s party, to celebrate the ringing in of 1857 and to toast the latter half of the decade. The No. 25 steam engine was top-of-the-line, with a reported top speed of _55 miles per hour_ \- an astounding report that no one had tested since it had been made- so naturally the heads of several well-known and respected companies had jumped on the opportunity that American capitalism had provided them, and rented the train for a trip from Chicago to New Orleans.

Eagle suspected they also wanted to turn their noses at those claiming there was ‘war in the air’.

The car itself had been outfitted with a long table on one side that was covered with platters of food. The middle was cleared for people to dance, and a small but impressive band had set up a stage in the corner. In another corner, boxes of fireworks had been placed, ready to be lit at midnight.

Heroic Eagle had known it would be a risk to accept the invitation. Even though he had sold off his portion of the massively successful steel company that he had started with his brothers many years ago, he had known many of the people on this train during his time as a head of the company, and worked with them very closely. So, he had received an invitation- handed to him by a Pinkerton, no less, though how the company had managed to find the hero that had been so long and so deep in hiding was a mystery, unless they’d been following his trail from the beginning- and while he had at first been inclined to decline, he had needed to head South, and New Orleans was a perfect place to disappear, especially with a war between the Northern and Southern states apparently looming so closely on the horizon for the practically infantile United States. So, Eagle had accepted the invitation, coming out of hiding for the first time in seven years to board the train that would hopefully take him to the South and safety.

Luck, unfortunately, chose not to be on his side.

He had known that the Serpent might be here. They had both become affluent while working as superheroes; Eagle in steel and the Serpent in- of all things- copper. Eagle had always teased the other miraculous holder that he should change his name from the Serpent to Copperhead in recognition of his newfound fortune, and the other man would always joke back with a tease of his own- always meant in good fun- and they’d both laugh and continue whatever job they might be working on together.

The days when all of the holders had been alive and worked together had been like that- happy, full of jokes and flirtations between the men and women that had never meant a thing for most of them.

Now, catching the Serpent’s eyes across the room only sent shivers of fear down Eagle’s back. The other man was mingling amongst the crowd quite easily, as though he were familiar with each person, unlike Eagle, who hadn’t been in the spotlight in seven years and was finding he had become distant from the world he had just plunged back into. It made sense- the snake miraculous holder hadn’t been forced to sell his company off, nor hide from the public eye. No, the snake had been the hunter these past seven years, and tonight it seemed he had found his prey.

Eagle knew the moment the Serpent recognized him. Brown eyes, almost the color of copper themselves— though not quite, as though some had tried to imitate copper’s color—locked with his sky-blue ones across the long train car where the party was taking place, and the Serpent managed to pull his face into an imitation of a grin, though the joy never reached his eyes, which filled with a grim determination.  The other hero turned back to the two older gentlemen he had been speaking with, and tipped his hat as he said goodbye. Eagle braced for a confrontation.

Heroic Eagle lost sight of the Serpent after the other hero left his conversation. The Snake miraculous wielder vanished into the groups of affluent gentlemen the crowded the train car, and Eagle couldn’t locate him. But Eagle felt when the Serpent appeared beside him. A strong hand gripped his shoulder, slender fingers wrapping around his arm like a vice. "Your presence truthfully astounds me. I did not expect this… happy coincidence." The voice was light and jovial, with only a hint of a hiss after each hard _s_ , but Eagle could hear the thinly veiled anger masked beneath.

“Neither did I, old chap. But since we’re here I suppose I’m cornered.” Eagle began reaching for his sidearm, but the Serpent’s other hand grabbed his arm, another firm grip.

“Now, now! This is a joyous occasion! Why would you want to ruin our reunion by drawing your weapon straight from the starting gate?” The Serpent’s voice was directly in Eagle’s ear, every hard _s_ a loud hiss, sending alarm bells ringing through the hero’s head.

“I just thought I’d start things off with a loud bang, old friend.” Eagle fought to keep his voice steady. Even out of his suit, the Serpent’s voice carried power. “I believe there’s an empty car further down the train. Perhaps this business would be better conducted there.” The private car would be empty right now, with plenty of room for him to confront Serpent, even with all the decadent outfitting done to turn it into a small home on rails instead of a traditional train car.

“I agree.” The Serpent released him, but Eagle knew better than to imagine that he could escape. Here he was in the other hero’s element- a crowded, enclosed area. There would be no way for the eagle- themed miraculous holder to beat his reptilian counterpart. Eagle led the way towards the back of the train and the empty car, dodging party guests left and right.

They reached the door, and Eagle could hear the rushing wind on the other side as the train raced onwards towards New Orleans, muffled though it was by the door. He pulled it open, feeling the wind rip at clothes as he stepped out between the train cars. His legs carried him forward, even as his head turned to look at the landscape rushing by.

He wondered if this would be the last time he saw it.

As the second door opened before them, Eagle ducked under the Serpent’s hand as the other hero tried to shove him forward. He rushed halfway down the car before spinning and planting his feet firmly, his eye’s glued to the man slinking into the room. The door clicked shut behind them, and the two former heroes were alone.

“You don’t have to do this. America still needs great men like us, to help protect-“

“’To help protect Lady Liberty, Justice, and Freedom’, Yes, I’ve heard you give this same speech before. In fact, I’d say I’m rather tired of it.” Eagle braced, expecting the serpent to strike with those biting words, but instead his opponent turned to the window. Gesturing outside, he indicated the landscape Eagle had been admiring moments before.

The train was passing through a pine forest. Giant trees, untouched by the march of civilization, stood tall and silent, shadowy in the night, seeming to barely move past even as the train kept its speed. The grass had been turned a pale blue by the moon- and starlight from the sky above; a blanket of stairs in the dark sky accompanying the full moon as it lit the peaceful scene it watched over.

Eagle watched the scene for a moment, taking in the beauty of the land. Serpent’s voice snaked into his head. “We fought to protect all of this. We saved it all from evil. But now, America no longer needs people like us.” Serpent turned back to him, his hand already reaching for his sidearm. “America no longer needs heroes.”

Eagle hit the other hero before the Serpent even realized his opponent's feet had moved, knocking the snake miraculous holder back into the door they had just come through. The Serpent let out an ‘Oof’ of surprise, the air leaving his body from the powerful blow. Eagle grinned at the noise, untucking his head from the tackle so he could raise it to look at the snake miraculous holder, only to let out his own gasp of surprise and horror.

An ornate wooden box sat open at the Serpent’s feet, and his eyes were fixed on its innards, a confused look on his face that was slowly growing angrier by the second. Eagle took a step backwards before realizing he had no retreat. Serpent’s eyes rose from the box, and for a moment, Eagle could swear they were the slits of snake eyes, instead of a human’s. “Where. Are. The. Miraculous?”

Heroic Eagle could only grin at the Serpent as the former eagle miraculous holder shrugged his shoulders. “I distributed them. Left each one at a different spot across the country, in hopes that the next generation would find them and rise up to take our places.” Eagle lifted his hand to his collar and tugged, revealing his bare neck. “Even mine. They could be anywhere now. You’ll never find them, and there will be a new generation of heroes…” Eagle paused, taking a step back as the Serpent slowly began to rise from the floor,” … With or without me.”

With an angry hiss, the Serpent lunged forwards, his fist set to connect with Eagle’s face. With practiced ease, the former Guardian dodged the blow, dropping into a crouch as Serpent threw himself sideways across the cart to avoid a blow that wasn’t coming. The two eyed each other warily. Then, without warning, the Serpent struck again, moving swiftly across the train car to plant his foot directly in the former Eagle’s chest. Eagle flew backwards, crashing into a window on the side of the train car, shattering it. He just managed to catch himself on the sides of the window to keep himself in the car, though the fierce winds howled and snipped at his back, trying to pull him from the window. He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes widening to see not solid ground behind him, but a cliff, dropping into a ravine.

Eagle threw himself back into the car, only to realize Serpent wasn't unarmed. "So, you're still willing to fight. Even without your powers, even with everything you gave up..."

"Think about the consequences here, Serpent..." “

”What consequences? With you gone, there won't be any more heroes!" The Serpent stepped forward, his pistol aim right at Eagle's chest. "Every move you've made, everything you've said since that day... Each and every bit of it has been a mistake."

"That's why I'm doing this. I'm trying to fix things." Eagle stepped forward as well, his eyes trained on the Serpent's, reaching for the gun. "It’s time to correct our mistakes.”

Eagle saw uncertainty flash in the Serpent’s eyes, and set his jaw. The former eagle miraculous holder grabbed his opponents arm and pulled him forward, pushing the gun to fire into the floor as Eagle flung the Serpent towards the broken window.

Serpent stumbled towards the window, his eyes wide with fear. He teetered on the edge for a moment, before- with a loud cry- he fell forwards. Eagle rushed to the window, wanting to be sure that the Serpent had died.

Instead, Eagle found him gripping the windowsill, his hand impaled on a piece of glass, bit still gripping the ledge. His other hand was still wrapped around the gun, which was pointed right at Eagle’s chest. The sound of the shot was lost to the wind, but Eagle felt the bullet rip through him. He stumbled backwards a few steps, before a jolt in the cart sent him tumbling forward through the window.

Serpent felt a tug on his leg, and looked down. Eagle had managed to grab his leg, still holding on for dear life as though there weren’t a bullet hole in his chest. Throwing the gun away, Serpent held out his hand for the other man to grab onto. Serpent pulled hard, managing to pull Eagle up enough to be able to hear the Snake miraculous holder. “Goodbye, old friend,” Serpent yelled over the roaring wind, “It was a pleasure to work with you, and I’m sorry to see you die!”

Eagle’s eyes widened, even as Serpent opened his hand and kicked the other man off into the ravine. The snake miraculous holder pulled himself back into the car with both hands, though the glass still in the windowpane cut at his skin. As he fell to the floor, gasping at the air for breath, a dark shape pulled itself from his breast pocket to float above him. “That wasss ssstupid and dangeroussss.” Tiberas scolded his wielder.

“It was. And I’m glad that it’s done with.” Serpent worked his way to his feet, and walked back to the broken window. The ravine had long since passed beneath the train, and once more they were traveling through pine forests. Suddenly, the sky was alight with bright fireworks, and Serpent realized it must be midnight. He frowned at the sight, and held out his hand so his kwami could land in his hands. “With those miraculous scattered all over the country…” The man let out a sigh, and his kwami looked up at his holder. “We can’t retire yet, Tiberas. I wonder if we ever will… Look at us, still cleaning up his mess after all these years.”

Tiberas hugged his chosen’s thumb, then disappeared back into the breast pocket as the door to the train car slid open. “George? Jacob? Someone said you two had stepped in here- Oh my God! What happened?”

Jacob Adderton waved off the question, grinning sheepishly at the other gentleman. “We had a bit of an accident with a firework, but everything is fine now. George had to… step out.” Serpent vaguely jerked his head down the train car. Let the other man make of that what he would. “I’ll come back with you.”

The other man studied Jacob’s face for another moment, then nodded, giving him a grin. Serpent made his way over to the door, pausing before he closed it to examine the room one last time. His eyes stopped on the box that had once contained the seven miraculous pieces that it had been Eagle’s duty to protect. He stepped over to it, picking it up and sliding it under his overcoat. Then, turning on his heel, he strode from the car.

George Skyrider was never seen or heard from again after that night.


	2. Fighting Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the first of our new heroes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to read the note at the end!

Zoe Shepard settled back into her fighting stance, her eyes flickering over her opponent as she spun her tonfa so that the long arms of the weapons pressed along her forearms. Her sparring partner- she couldn’t think of his name; she’d never met him before today- was almost a foot taller than herself, at six feet two inches. He was using a bo staff, holding one end pointed her way.

Zoe knew she was not an intimidating sight. Only five feet two inches tall, she had dark red hair- many argued that it was brown if they had never seen the sun catch it- that came down to cover the nape of her neck, bright blue eyes, full lips, and a short thin nose. She was lanky, with long thin arms and legs. No one could argue that she had not matured, though. Those arms and legs had well-defined muscle on them, and while her body was not quite an hourglass shape, she had rather wide hips and respectable C-cup breasts—the perfect size to get in her way in fights just like this.

Zoe knew that she had to strike first. Her opponent’s staff gave him an advantage if she was not in close combat with him, and even if this were a sparring match, neither wanted to lose. Her dual wielding double tonfa would certainly help her to get inside the effective range of the staff, her problem would be getting past his defense…

Suddenly, she rushed forward. Her opponent brought his staff to the outside of his body before bringing the end back up towards her the girl’s left side. She blocked it easily with her right tonfa, but couldn’t get her other one spun and pointed at his throat before her opponent was twirling back to his right, moving backwards at the same time as he maneuvered himself to block her other tonfa with his staff, knocking it to the outside.

Now Zoe was open, and she had to throw herself backwards as the other fighter brought his staff towards her for several quick jabs. This gave him the distance he needed, and her opponent started making quick swipes towards her that Zoe had to block with her tonfa, both edges of his staff making her weapons ring.

Then, her opponent brought his staff too high for a swing, and Zoe saw her chance. Bending low to dodge the attack, she bright her left tonfa up, spinning it so the long arm was out before hitting her opponent’s knee, bringing him to the floor.

Zoe brought the other end to the outside of her opponent’s head, smiling as their teacher called the sparring match to an end, declaring her the winner. There was a smattering of applause from the assembled parents, her own mother being the loudest. Zoe bent to help the boy up from the bright blue training mats that made up the sparring portion of the dojo, and the two bowed to each other before stepping off of the mats.

Zoe walked over to her mother, hearing the next match start behind her. She knew that in a more traditional dojo, she would be expected to go back and sit with the other students until the rest of the matches had concluded, but both herself and her mother had chosen this teacher because of his rather relaxed views on many things that others in his profession adhered to strictly.

The young girl sat next to her mother, adjusting her newly earned Rok Kyu green belt. She’d only started training in the Oikinawan Koyudo style of fighting only 9 months ago, but with hour-long training sessions twice every week, she had quickly risen to a green belt in the martial fighting style. It had taken a great deal of persuading both of her parents to allow her out into the public world, but they had finally relented when she had spent three days researching the benefits of knowing a fighting technique and especially one as specialized as Koyudo.

That wasn’t to say she had bad parents. Thomas and Melinda Shepard loved their only daughter with all their hearts-  and they did their best to show it when they could. But the couple’s daughter had been given the title of ‘genius’ at a very young age—they had taken her to get an IQ test after she had started building structurally sound stairs out of blocks so that she could open doors at the age of four. Since having the title of ‘genius’ thrust on her, Zoe had never been allowed to stray far from her parents’ side. Thomas and Melinda had immediately moved all of their business into a home office so that they could feed their daughter’s intelligence at every turn, and they had kept Zoe homeschooled her entire life. They’d researched ways to keep their house stimulating for their daughter’s mind, and thrown out all the televisions in the house to replace them with books. Every meal was healthy and had ‘brain’ food, every bookcase was mostly, if not all, nonfiction books, and while the house did have internet, the parental locks were set to their most extreme, only allowing for research. The house was an oasis of intelligence and learning.

Zoe Shepard hated all of it.

Melinda Shepard patted her daughter’s leg affectionately. “You looked wonderful out there. That boy never stood a chance against your big brain.” Zoe had to stifle a deep sigh, the same kind that always managed to work its way out when her mother praised her daughter’s intelligence instead of her skill or talent. “Your father and I are so proud of you, Zoe. You’ve been working very hard lately, and we’ve enjoyed seeing all the progress you’ve made even in spite of your… frivolous activities.” Zoe frowned. She wanted to defend her ‘frivolous activities’, but she knew she could not say anything to change her mother’s mind.

Just as Zoe was about to recuse herself, an excuse forming on her tongue, her mother reached into her handbag. Zoe’s eyes followed curiously, but she quickly lost interest as her mother pulled a book out. “Your father and I thought that, since you’d been doing so well, you deserved a… reward. So, we found you a book on Koyudo, written by a grand master. It’s specifically about those tonfa weapons you seem to like…” Melinda handed the book to her daughter, still talking though Zoe had since stopped listening, taking a renewed interest in the book her mother had just handed her.

The book itself was bound in hard leather that had been dyed a brick red sometime in the past. The spine was creased with heavy reading, as though someone had read through this particular book several times, and the corners were bent inwards towards the pages, another suggestion of their heavy use. The most interesting thing to Zoe, however, were the hand-written letters on the cover. Running her hand over them, she could feel how the writer had pressed down on the leather, depressing the material while the words were written.

Zoe opened the book, and was immediately entranced. The illustrations within the book were fantastic. There were many diagrams of how to perform certain moves, moves that she hadn’t even heard of in class. And they were all done in such detail! The writer had included the beads of sweat on the figure’s brows, the placement of the eyes in combat situations so that the figures would not be caught off guard, and so many other details that Zoe could almost see the movements depicted in the drawings.

The young genius barely acknowledged when her mother tapped her shoulder. “Time to go, Zoe; the matches are over.” Startled from her reverie, Zoe looked up to realize that most of the rest of the class had already left.

Her teacher—whom had told the entire class and their family to call him Horokoami-Sensei, even though his real name was Franklin Smity- had walked over to them as her mother had readied herself to leave. “Mrs. Shepard! Your daughter is totally one of my best students, miss! I am so glad that you both decided on my dojo. That’s like, so rockin’.”

Zoe almost giggled as her mother moved her daughter to stand behind Melinda, as though she worried her daughter might catch a lower IQ by talking to her teacher too directly. Horokoami-sensei didn’t seem to mind, though, still smiling at Melinda, who smiled back tensely. “W-well, you give such great lessons! It’s…remarkable how far your students have come!”

Horokoami- sensei’s grin grew. “Yes ma’am, but your girl Zoe here is the prize of ‘em all! She’s really doin’ the dojo proud!”

Melinda’s smile actually became genuine for a moment, as she turned her head to regard Zoe. “Yes. My little genius is quite the treasure, isn’t she…” Snapping her head back to Horokoami-sensei, the real smile dropped from Melinda’s face, to be replaced by the fake one once more. “Unfortunately, Horokoami-sensei, we have to go, but it was… nice to speak with you.”

Horokoami-sensei didn’t seem to notice her mother’s pause, and Zoe followed her mother out, waving to him as they walked out the front glass doors of the dojo. Melinda’s bright red 2006 Impala was parked in the first non-handicapped spot that could be found in the two rows of parking spaces in the parking lot of the dojo—practically a reserved spot by now, as everyone that took classes at the dojo knew Melinda Shepard parked her car there, and none dared to try and take it from her. Not that they could, of course, as herself and her daughter were always an hour early to lessons so that Zoe could ‘meditate’ and focus her mind with help from a ‘master’.

Car rides with either of her parents were never silent, a fact which Zoe both hated and loved. On the one hand, she never had to speak during these car rides—her parents would never let up with their words, constantly talking as they drove, or trying to talk over each other if they were in the same car. On the other hand, the incessant talking meant that she couldn’t think during those car rides. Not that she usually needed to, but there were times that the young genius had wanted some peaceful quiet to think, only to be stifled by the walls of words her parents put up.

Today, however, Zoe didn’t want to think in the car, and she happily listened to her mother chatter, first complaining about Horokoami-sensei and his terrible manner of speaking, then on to the moniker that he had taken for himself to style himself as an actual master of the martial art, and finally delving into old grievances against the teacher, such as how he hardly ever answered personal calls or emails immediately, or how he insisted on showing off a tattoo of a Japanese symbol that he insisted meant ‘grandmaster’ but actually translated more closely to ‘dish washer’- though at least he had gotten the right culture for his tattoo.

Zoe listened to her mother rant, a common occurrence when it came to her mother—her father mostly liked to spout interesting things he’d learned recently—until she spotted their house coming up ahead of them. It was a rather large house, with three bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a study on top of the house standards of a dining room, a kitchen, and a living room, all spread across two stories of house, plus a two-car garage on the left side of the house. The outside was made of brick, and every window had two large black wooden shutters on either side. But what interested Zoe the most at this moment was the small brown package on the welcome mat in front of their white front door on the porch that stretched across the front of the house.

She rushed straight for it as soon as her mother stopped the car in the driveway, having a difficult time hiding her excitement from her mother, who looked at the package curiously while she unlocked the front door. “Did you get yourself something, dear?”

Zoe could only nod in response, and her mother continued as they walked in the front door. “Well, don’t forget you need to wash the dishes, sweep the dining room, and do your hour of reading right away so that everything can be ready for us to have dinner when your father gets home.”

Zoe almost groaned, but put the package down on the side table they kept beside the stairs anyway, and rushed to her chores. She started with the dishes, as she usually did, while her mother turned on a classical music playlist and prepared to start dinner. Thomas Shepard was set to arrive home at six o’clock, and it was only three o’clock now, but Zoe’s mother insisted on her getting all of her chores done the moment they got home from every outing.

So, Zoe cleaned the dishes, washing each one carefully before putting it in the dishwasher so the machine could take care of any remaining mess or germs with hot water and soap. Then, the young genius took their broom from the closet downstairs where they kept it, just beside the entrance to the kitchen, and swept the dining room floor—an easy enough task, since the entire first floor had hardwood floors.

 It was the hour of reading that was the most stressful. Her parents insisted on her reading a non-fiction book for an hour ever, so she had already been reading a nonfiction book, which meant she would not get a chance to look at the book her parents had just gotten for her. Every minute that ticked by as she read was terrible in her mind, excruciating as she fidgeted in anticipation of opening her freshly-delivered package.

Finally, the hour was over, and she rushed to get the box and take it to her room. She tore the brown paper wrapping, to reveal an ornate black box. For a moment, Zoe was confused. She hadn’t expected the wooden box, but she shrugged it off as a personal choice of the shipper, and opened the hinged lid to stare excitedly at the two golden pins—shaped as a small group of four ants around a queen—placed on velvet cushions inside the box.

As she examined them, her confusion flared up again as she realized that they weren’t exactly like the pins that she had thought she’d ordered. The other ones had not had the queen in the center, instead being two small groupings of ants, though the ants had been made of gold. They also hadn’t had any precious stones, whereas these had small rubies in each of the smaller ants, as well as two larger ones in the center of the queen ants’ backs.

Curious, Zoe put them on—one on each hip, as she’d planned to wear them since she’d ordered them. She admired them in her full-length mirror when she noticed something floating behind her. Whipping around, she stared at the small fire red floating humanoid behind her, with two red antennae sticking from its head.

“Hi! I’m Ict’Laa!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! The first chapter! We've met the first of our heroes, so we're moving along quickly!
> 
> Alright, so a few notes here. First, we're starting off with a twice-a-week update schedule, though that might change later on. We really want to crank out these chapters as quickly as possible, but we also want to make sure they're the best that they can be- quantity AND quality for our readers! Also, Ict'laa is pronounced 'Ist-laa', for those that are wondering about the pronunciation- that will be made more clear in later chapters, but I wanted to go ahead and get that out of the way!
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my Editor Plaggerism, without whom this story would not be possible! He is a wonderful editor and co-author, and I am very thankful for all of his help! As well, I would like to thank my pre-reader-- who again has asked to remain anonymous-- for being a second editor and another co- author. Without both of you, this story wouldn't be possible, so thank you both so much!
> 
> And finally, thank you to everyone reading this! You're all wonderful, and we all say thank you so much for your support! Let's keep going and have a wonderful ride!


	3. Riding Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next new hero!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to read the author's note at the end!

Ventus loved riding Whirlwind through the pastures of the family ranch. It had become a fact of his life, soon after—as a young boy—he had trained the horse to be ridden, that the two would ride the pastures, under the pretense checking the fences for breaks that the cattle might escape through or for pregnant heifers that might have wandered away from the herd and gotten lost.

Anyone who didn’t know the young man would think he didn’t have any reason to lie about why he wanted to ride. Standing six feet four inches tall, with short, wild brown hair and chocolate brown eyes, the young man always dressed in the traditional cowboy style, even down to the holster on his hip and the felt hat on his head—unless he were riding, of course, as the hat would only fly off when he rode at a gallop, a very common occurrence.

But the real reason why Ventus rode that saddle was to escape his monochromic life and feel the magic and thrill of he and his horse, Whirlwind, galloping across the vast pasture. When his mother had died— May 14, 2000, fifteen years earlier to the day—Ventus’ life had become that much darker. His father was a kind and loving man, but it was hard to be bright and positive when you raised animals for slaughter, and the older MacAdams had been forced to deal with his own darkness since the death of his wife.

So Ventus had taken to riding. The foal he had picked to raise himself when they were both younger—he 6 and the foal only a year old—had been the fastest on the farm, so Ventus had named the quarter horse Whirlwind, and they had become the best of friends through the years. Every chance the young man had, he would take the horse riding, normally across his father’s extensive ranch.

And, for a few moments, he didn’t have to worry about anything but riding.

Today, the sky was overcast—signs of a heavy storm were everywhere. Ventus had just helped to get the cattle herds to safety, and he had told his father that he wanted to ride the pastures and make sure none of the cows had wandered off or broken through the fence in a panic at the oncoming storm. Jeffrey MacAdams hadn’t believed a word of it—he never had, really—but he let his son go out anyway, warning him to be home before the storm hit.

Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans for the young man and his horse. Ventus reigned Whirlwind to a stop in a panic, as another horse jumped over the fence from a running start in the fields on the other side. Whirlwind squealed as the wild stallion landed with a thud in front of the two, rearing back on his hind legs to swat at the mustang with horseshoed hooves.

The wild stallion snorted back at Whirlwind, rearing up to swat back with its own hooves, before turning and galloping away down the fence. Ventus gripped Whirlwind’s reigns tightly in his fists. “Whoa, there, boy. Calm down, he’s wild, but he’s not trouble. We’re going to have to go after him, get him out of the pasture so he doesn’t break anything or spook the herds.”

Whirlwind grunted, and tossed his head side-to-side. “Come on, you know that we have to. I wish that we could head home now too, but we can’t let that wild boy run free in the pastures. Come on, let’s go.”

The pair took off after the wild stallion, kicking up dust behind themselves. The other horse in question had managed to get quite far ahead of them in a short amount of time, and Ventus marveled at its speed—though he knew that Whirlwind wouldn’t fair to catch up. Hooves thudding into the earth under them, Whirlwind gave a neigh of delight, and Ventus echoed the joyous cry. The wind rushing by his face was a mixture of the blowing breeze that was drawing in the coming storm and the air that they were pushing through for the chase, mussing his short brown hair even further than it had already been.

The chase carried them even further from the main house for the ranch, as the wild horse followed the line of the fence. There were times the wild stallion would try to break away, veering from the sturdy wooden fences to head out into the pastures, but Ventus knew that if the other horse managed to slip into the wide fields, the two chasers would never be able to coax him back out, and they’d have to gather a posse to tranquilize the mustang and drive it back out into the wild. So, the young man would take out his revolver—an older model .22 that his father had given him for his fourteenth birthday—and loose a round far to the right, close enough to spook the horse back near the fence. The young cowboy hated to use such tactics, but if he could get the horse to the corner in the fence, Ventus knew he would be able to calm it and lead it out and away from the ranch’s grounds.

A quarter of a mile later, the wild stallion was cornered. Ventus reigned Whirlwind to a halt as the other stallion turned to face them, then jumped down and ran to the wild horse’s other side to keep it from trying to escape.

The mustang eyed the young man warily as he approached, ears flat against his head as the wild horse let out soft snorts at Ventus, who approached cautiously, his hands raised to show he meant the animal no harm. “Come on, boy, settle down,” Ventus cooed softly, “We’re not here to hurt ya. We just wanna make sure ya get outta here safe…”

The wild mustang had stopped snorting, its ears raised and stiff, twitching as it listened to the tone of the young man’s voice. Ventus kept talking gently and calmly as he approached the horse, watching it slowly relax as it became more comfortable with him. The young man slowly took the rope from his side, and looped it around the horse’s neck. Walking back over to Whirlwind, the young man climbed back into his saddle and gave the rope a tug, turning both horse to follow the fence again.

Ventus had remembered a gate out onto the open prairie nearby, and only fifteen minutes after catching him, the wild mustang was back on the correct side of the fence. The gate led out onto a green field, with an old road hadn’t been used in years cutting through only one hundred feet away. The road had once come from the east, and had been a main road for travelers heading west. It bisected a road that the ranchers used to go into town a few miles ahead of this point, but none of them had ever seen anyone driving in on this stretch of roadway. The young man pointed the horse in the direction of the open prairie, and sent it off with a wild whoop.

Then, Ventus noticed the strangest sight he had witnessed that day: A large van, painted with a mural that was obviously an ode to a music artist—though Ventus couldn’t identify who—in a rainbow of colors, stopped on the side of the road, with a very distraught-looking man pacing beside it.

Ventus, curious, gave Whirlwind’s reigns a tug, and they set off towards the strange man and his even stranger van. “’Scuse me! Do ya, by chance, need any help?”

The man looked up as Ventus called out to him, raising his hand in a wave. “Yes, I do! Please! My van—the wheel—Argh!” The man dropped his face into his hands, and Ventus jumped from Whirlwind’s back to go and comfort him.

“It’s alright—I can help ya.” Ventus could already see one problem—the van’s back right tire had popped, its side split open like something had burst out from within. “It’s justa popped tire. We can grab yer jack and have ya back up and runnin’ in no time!”

The man sniffed, and Ventus wondered if the man was on the verge of tears. “T-thanks, but that isn’t the only problem! The engine won’t start!”

Ventus gave the man a pat on the back. “I’ll see what I can do.” Walking over to the hood of the van, he opened it, exposing the large engine. Pulling his swiss army knife from his pocket—a gift from his mother that he hadn’t received until he had turned thirteen—Ventus began looking, and quickly found the problem. “It looks like one a yer spark plugs’s come loose!” Reaching into the depths of the engine, the young man quickly found the traitorous wire, and pulled in back into place. Using the phillips head screwdriver on his pocket knife, the offending sparkplug was quickly locked back into place, the screw on tightly. Ventus closed the hood. “Now, about that jack…”

The man seemed to grow embarrassed. “Well, you see… I’ve never had to change a tire before. I had called for roadside assistance earlier so that they could come out and replaced the tire—it had given out on this road, and I was at a loss, so I had hoped to wait through the storm in the van with the heater on and have them deal with my tire… But then it wouldn’t start!”

Ventus held up a hand to stop the man. “So ya don’t have a jack?”

“Oh, I do! But I have no idea where it is!”

“Well then, lets us go find it, you an’ me!”

As it turned out, the stranger—who introduced himself as Sam Smith, a traveling salesman—did not even have a clue what a jack looked like, so Ventus had to find it on his own. Luckily, it was stored with the wheel underneath the back of the van. Both were tucked smoothly in a special compartment that butted up against the back axle, and with a few quick tugs, wheel and jack came away smoothly.

Getting the popped wheel off of the van proved to be a tiring task, but with a four-way tire iron that Sam gave him to use, Ventus managed to get the old tire off and the spare on, while the salesman himself called to cancel the roadside assistance.

When the van was off the jack once more, Sam grabbed Ventus’s hand and shook it vigorously. “I can’t thank you enough, young man! Before you came along, I had resigned myself to waiting out the rainstorm cold and bored to tears! Now I can be off on my way before the storm has even hit!”

“Think nothin’ of it, Mr. Smith, sir, I was glad to help-“

“Oh, but I insist on repaying you! I… Well, I don’t have any cash on me at the moment. But please! Look through my wares! Anything that interests you—anything at all—please, help yourself to it!” As he spoke, the salesman opened the side of his large van, revealing an interior full of items. Painted wooden masks were hung on the wall above a small cot, their eyeholes staring blankly out. A box of pottery sat next to a small bucket filled with daggers and small clubs. Everywhere Ventus looked, there were miscellaneous items, all in boxes and barrels spread chaotically across the large van’s interior.

“Really, it was nothing, sir!” Ventus tried to protest again, but even he could hear the curiosity in his voice, and the salesman grinned.

“Please, I insist! Anything you see, go ahead! You’ve earned it, young man!” The salesman gestured wildly to his wares, then retreated to the doorway of the cab of the van to revel in the heat coming from the vents.

Ventus began to look through all of the man’s wares, marveling at the fantastic things he had. Strange pieces of pottery, books new and old, knives and guns of all sorts—the interior of the van had items seemingly for everyone.

But not, it seemed, for him.

Ventus’s search ended, and he shook his head at the salesman, who quickly reappeared at his side. Ventus had noticed that Sam seemed to have been studying him this entire time, and it was now more obvious than even that the other man seemed to be sizing him up for something. “I didn’t see anything for me, sir. Besides, I didn’t do it to earn anything…”

The young man let his sentence trail off as he noticed that the salesman had run back to the front of the van. Curious, Ventus followed, stopping behind Sam as the latter turned his head back to look at him. “I wonder…” Rummaging through some things that Ventus couldn’t see in the cab of the vehicle, Sam’s eyes never left the younger man. “You see, I had been saving this for someone… special. Yes, very special indeed. For the longest time, no one has seemed right, but for you….”

With that, the salesman produced an ornate black wooden box, and opened it to reveal two leather handguards. The handguards were very obviously old, but in excellent condition. The leather seemed well taken care of, and the metal studs at each of the points where the fingers came through showed no signs of rust. But what most caught Ventus’s eyes were the two silver chains that seemed to hold the handguards together, and the flat, blank silver disks that hung from them.

The young man reached out to take the handguards, feeling almost as though they were calling to him, but Sam pulled them back, a mysterious smile on his face. “I think you will be very happy with these, young man. Very happy, indeed, for the rest of your life. So, will you accept them as payment?

“Sir, I will, and thank ya for them. Ya know that I didn’t do this for payment-“

“I know fully well, my friend.”

Sam continued to smile as Ventus took the box from him, walking over to place it in Whirlwind’s saddlebag while he put the handguards on. “Oh wow! These fit almost like they was made for me! Thank ya, Sam-“

The salesman and his van were gone when Ventus turned around. The young man could see taillights disappearing down the road. Ventus frowned and shook his head at the man’s eagerness to leave, then turned back to get on Whirlwind-

Thunder clapped, and the wind howled as the skies opened up and rain started to pour. All Ventus could do was stare at the little silver-furred creature with bright red eyes and tiny fangs peaking from its lips sitting on his saddle.

“Hi,” said the creature in a high, squeaky voice. “I’m Tapia! Can we get out of the rain?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here he is! Our next new hero! This was another 'wild' chapter to write, but I liked writing it, and while I've never written a Texan accent before, I believe it turned out very well!
> 
> As far as notes for this chapter, I believe the only thing I need to talk about is the pronunciation of the kwami's name. It's pronounced Tah-pay-ah, for those who are trying to keep track of the pronunciation of the kwami's names.
> 
> As always, I would really like to thank my editor and my pre-reader, without who this fanfic would not be at all possible. They've both really helped my a great deal, both in writing this and with my whole life, and I'm glad to say that they are both big parts of my life, and the reason that this work of fanfiction is any good at all.
> 
> And as always, THANK YOU to everyone who is reading this! I'm glad that we are doing this together, and I hope that you will all stick with us through this wild ride! So let's buckle in and keep going as we go through this story to the very end!


	4. Up a Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 3rd member of the Miracle 7!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note at the end of the chapter!

The Bellacreatori family crest had hung over the mantle of the fireplace in the main living room of the family mansion for as long as the mansion had been in the family—which, according to official records, had been since its construction in 1658. The crest itself was a shield design, cut into four separate sections—two red, and two green. In the center of the green sections, a hammer hovered, ready and waiting to strike, above an anvil, while in the middle of the red sections, bunches of grapes sat patiently, as though ready to be eaten.

When the crest had first been designed, the items in the centers of the sections had been made of bright white cloth. Bianca had been told many times by older relatives, who had heard it from their relatives, and so on, all the way back to the original seamstress, the matriarch of the family at the time. But looking at them now, Bianca Bellacreatori could not believe such a thing to be true. The designs were yellowed with age, despite all the care that had been put into taking care of the crest, and their fraying thread betrayed the age of the crest almost as badly as the family motto, which had been sown onto a banner at the bottom of the crest: “La Famiglia Prima Di Tutto”- Family Comes First.

Bianca had always found herself drawn to the main living room and the family crest. At least once a day she would find herself in the room, standing in front of the old tapestry and staring at it. During the winter, she would sit and enjoy the fire as the young girl admired the old work. In the summer, the fireplace was silent, and she would have no excuse to stop and stare, so she would only look in passing through the room.

However, hardly a day went by when she didn’t see the family crest and motto.

“Miss Bianca. Dinner is ready, and your parents have requested that you come to eat with them in the main dining room.” George Jeffingson was a slight old man, though age had been kind to him. Every wrinkle on his face was the result of years of smiling and laughter—though not usually on his employers’ time, since Bianca had rarely seen him with any expression on his face. The Jeffingson family had been serving with the Bellacreatori family for many generations, with each generation having a least one child to follow in the ancestral footsteps. No one in either family could remember being told about a time when the Bellacreatoris hadn’t had a Jeffingson on the staff, normally as the head of the family and household staff.

George noticed the book in Bianca’s hand—To Kill A Mockingbird. “A rather good read, isn’t it miss?” The butler smiled at her, and Bianca smiled back. The old butler had noticed the girl’s interest in reading from a very early age, and had taken to recommending books for her from time to time that he thought she might enjoy.

“I actually just finished it. It was a very good read, if… a little sad, for my tastes.”

George held out his hands, still smiling. “Then I shall return it for you, young miss.”

Bianca moved to put the book in his hands, but stopped herself short. “Actually… I think I shall return it myself. The library just down the hall, correct?” George nodded. “Then I’ll do it myself. Thank you, George!”

The butler bowed, then turned and left the room. Bianca glanced one last time at the tapestry and the motto, very important relics of her family’s history. Then, the young girl turned and followed, stepping out into the hallway, where she caught a look at herself in the full-length mirror hung outside the door—put there by her mother, who loved to look at herself very often.

The only daughter of the Bellacreatori family, Bianca Bellacreatori stood 5’6 inches tall. She had always been called beautiful by most standards, with platinum blond hair that many swore was a bright white, stark contrast to the black hair shared by the rest of her family. The young girl had inherited the pale white skin that all her family shared—a trait passed down from their Italian ancestors. She had pale blue eyes the color of robins’ eggs, that her parents swore she must have gotten from a grandmother on her father’s side, since the rest of her family had green eyes. She had been called the ‘jewel’ of the Bellacreatori family, with long slender arms and legs, an ample bust, and a figure that any hourglass would die for. Today, she was wearing a white silk dress that puffed out at her hips, coming down to her knees, and cut low in the bust. The shoulders were puffed, but the dress itself had no sleeves.

Bianca smoothened her dress in the mirror, then ran a finger through her hair, before moving on down the hallway towards the library. As she neared the door, however, she noticed it was partly open. Normally, the door to the first-floor library was keep all the way shut. Bianca crept forward as quietly as she could, opening the door with a gentle push.

Nicolo Bellacreatori, the second oldest of the Bellacreatori children at 18, was on the other side, with a maid pressed against the wall as he kissed her passionately. His hands had found her way underneath her clothing, and the woman was moaning wildly into the kiss. As Bianca opened the door, Nicolo began kissing down the woman’s neck, and she let out a pleased gasp.

Then the woman’s eyes met Bianca’s.

For a moment, she seemed too surprised to do anything. Bianca held her finger up to her lips, then pointed to the book before setting it on the small table just inside the door. The young girl could still hear the woman’s pleasured gasps as she pulled the door shut quietly, letting out a small sigh once she was sure she wouldn’t be heard. She had known that Nicolo often fraternized with the female staff, but this was the first time Bianca had caught him actually acting on his advances.

If their parents caught him, it would mean trouble. Fanscesco and Emmiline Bellacreatori were already angry with their second-oldest son for flirt and making passes at the help—especially since there were rumors that he hadn’t restricted himself to the female help!— but Bianca doubted that he would get caught, and even if he were, it would only be a scolding he received.

Bianca moved quickly to the dining room door, pausing to smooth out her dress and take a deep breath before pushing open the door. The dining room was very large, and Bianca could hear her footsteps echoing through the room as she walked to her seat. The young girl always took the seat opposite to her mother, on the south end of the table—her mother had insisted the table be perfectly aligned with the ends east-to-west, as the entire mansion had been oriented to the poles during construction. The table itself could seat ten—four to either long side and one at either end—but Bellacreatoris insisted on only using the long sides. Franscesco and Emmiline would sit in the middle on the north side, and their older son Antonio would sit beside his father. Bianca always sat across from her mother, with Nicolo across from his father and the youngest of the boys, Leonardo, beside Bianca, her being the only family member he even remotely was friendly with.

This evening, Bianca and Nicolo were the last to arrive. Bianca sat down in her chair, glancing at Antonio and their father. Antonio had copied their father’s look again today—they were both dressed in black suits, with red bowties and white button up shirts. Their overcoats had been hung over the backs of their chairs, and Antonio was chatting amicably with Fransceco. Both men were heavyset and muscular, and their skin had begun to take on a summer tan, though they hardly spent time in the sun Her mother had donned a small black dress with spaghetti straps covered in shimmery fluff and a red monogrammed B over the left breast. Leonardo was, of course, in his usual all-black suit, looking more like a visiting preacher than a member of the family, being tall, thin, and rather lanky, rather than heavyset and muscular like the rest of the men in the family. All the men had a similar handsome face, though: Chiseled square jaws, strong noses—as Bianca’s grandmother called it—and bright eyes that could capture your gaze and lure you in with promises of whatever you might desire.

Her father clapped his hands, and the whole table went silent. “Ah, another family meal! I’m so glad we get to take the time and be a family, with as busy-“ Fransceco let his gaze slide over to Antonio, who met the older man’s disapproving stare with a grin,”- as we all are.”

Bianca could read that stare as well as she could read the tension in the room. Dinners like these—and family activities in general—were a farce they all knew too well. As hard as each person tried to be a part of the family, they each had something that kept them apart from the others, dark secrets that stood in the way. Antonio had been constantly borrowing money from her parents for almost four years, the same amount every six months: two-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars. The sum wasn’t too much, of course, and at first the two parents had been happy to give the boy the money without question. After all, “Family Comes First”. But in recent months, Fransceco and Emmilina had grown weary of giving their oldest son such a large amount, since he managed the family’s main distillery, the largest in the northeastern US.

Leonardo, of course, had been a problem since his early childhood. Now fourteen, his rebellious behavior had started at six, when he had built a large greenhouse in a far-flung corner of the family estate and began spending most of his time there, preferring the company of his plants to his family. Of course, he still kept up appearances in public—they all did—but in their private lives, Leonardo disappeared every day, trying to keep his greenhouse a secret from the whole family. They all knew about it, though none of them much cared to find out what the youngest member of the family did in his ‘personal garden’.

And then, of course, came Bianca. Her parents hardly knew what to do with the young girl. She obeyed them quite well, but didn’t seem to think of anyone outside the Bellacreatori family as anything but replaceable objects. Bianca knew this was a point of concern for her parents, but she had never been quite sure why. She had only ever been told that family mattered, and though she had learned that objects and personal possession were powerful and necessary in life, even above other people.

So, the usual awkward silence hung over dinner. Tensions had their highs and lows as each of them tried to make small talk with the others. Leonardo told Bianca in a whisper about the new plants he was growing—he never told her exactly where, but young teen loved to tell her about the plants he had started cultivating, and with the state-of-the-art greenhouse he had built, he was able to grow plants all year, even during the winter. Bianca had never quite understood where her youngest brother gotten the money to build his private garden, but she didn’t truly care to find out either. She might be invisible to most of the rest of the family, but Leonardo had sharp eyes, and a very quick mind.

As the kitchen servants came in to collect the last plates from dinner, Bianca stood and excused herself. Though she’d been able to listen to someone talk throughout dinner, the tensions at the table had been too much for her. She needed to get out, to get away to her room.

With a wave, her father dismissed her from the table, deep in conversation with Antonio and Emmiline. Pushing back from the table, Bianca managed not to run from the dining hall, instead slowly walking out the same door she had entered through. Leonardo’s eyes followed her, and not for the first time, she wondered what her youngest brother might know—how much he managed to see in the house without anyone knowing.

As soon as the door to the dining room had clicked shut behind her, Bianca started running, down the hall, up three flights of stairs, and down two more hallways to her own room. Closing the door behind her and turning the lock before spinning to press her back to the door and slowly slide down to a sitting position, all the air leaving the young girl’s lungs in a relieved sigh.

Bianca’s room was rather spartan. Nothing decorated the powder blue walls that were trimmed with white, and only two large windows with a door onto her own patio between them broke their walls’ monotony. Three dressers were pressed flat against the walls, and three bookcases managed to almost completely hide one of the others. Bianca’s bed was a four poster, with white curtains and olive green sheets, pressed into the corner opposite the door. Nothing had changed in this room for almost ten years—since Bianca’s mother had taken out all of her children’s books and replaced them with what the older woman dubbed ‘appropriate literature’.

But today, something was different. Bianca’s eyes fell on the ornate black wooden box set on top of the comforter on her bed, and the note on top of it. Getting to her feet, she walked over cautiously, as though the box might get up and attack her. The young girl gingerly picked up the note, holding it away from her face and squinting to make out the words.

_Bianca_

_My wife has had this brooch for many years and never had occasion to wear it. She remembered you’d mentioned to her once that spiders were a favorite bug of yours, and thought you might like to have it._

_With Regards,_

_The Jeffingsons._

Curious, Bianca opened the box, and gasped.

Inside the box sat a golden spider brooch, with five red rubies for eyes and two silver bands across the thorax. The legs were arranged so that for pointed their sharp tips towards the head while the other four pointed to the rear. The designer had even gotten the spinnerets right, two golden protrusions on the spider’s thorax.

Bianca picked up the brooch almost reverently. This was a terribly important and powerful gift, and she would have to find some way to thank Ms. Jeffingson for it somehow. But first, the brooch had to be put on.

Bianca fixed the brooch to the breast of her dress, just over her beating heart. There was a full-length mirror beside one of her dressers, and she rushed over to it to look at herself, admiring the brooch fully, barely even realizing there was a white watsonia colored humanoid with four fangs that protruded from either side of her mouth and ruby red eyes with yellow irises that was barely an inch tall floating on her shoulder until it spoke to her.

“You look beautiful, young one. My name is Silidri, and I believe we will get along wonderfully.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys! Bianca here was actually one of my favorite characters to write, even though she was also one of the most difficult I've ever written! These characters are all rather unique, and they are about to become more so, and I'm very happy with how this story is turning out! 
> 
> Thank you to my amazing editor and pre-reader. This story really wouldn't be possible without either of you, and I want you both to know that I really appreciate everything you're both doing! This story isn't easy, and the two-updates-a-week schedule is tough on us all, but we're all working very hard, and we're making it through this together. So thank you Plaggerism, and to my anonymous pre-reader!
> 
> And thank you so much to all of you reading this! This story is still going strong and I hope that you'll stick with us through the rest of it! You're all amazing, and this story would be nothing without all of you! So thank you, thank you, thank you so much!


	5. Under the Sea

Black Adder had a major love/hate relationship with aquariums.

During the day, the young hero would love to come through the massive building, spending hours looking through every attraction. The boy loved to watch the octopi change color for treats, and squeeze themselves into the tiniest of spaces. Adder enjoyed seeing the rainbow of colors that the myriad tropical fish were covered in, and he especially loved to go through the tunnel that went beneath their tank. He loved to watch the sharks get fed, and to visit the special exhibits that passed through—the _Titanic_ exhibit had become one of his favorites, and he visited it whenever it came to the aquarium. Black Adder loved to visit the aquarium during the daytime operating hours.

But during the night was a completely different story. Sneaking around the dim aquarium was difficult, thanks in part to all the delicious smells of fish. As much as it was tempting, the hero had to hold himself back from stopping for a quick snack every time he passed a tank. The animal instincts came with the hero’s suit and whip, unfortunately. Besides, if he let it take over, it would compromise his cover and ruin his reputation—something the young hero absolutely would not allow.

Not all the miraculous’ side effects were hindering him now, though. The snake’s ability to sense heat had helped a great deal in avoiding the night patrol men who were patrolling the hallways and exhibits hourly. The young hero certainly didn’t want to hurt any of the guards, but if they found a young man dressed in a suit made of indeterminate material that was completely black save for the brown underbelly-- and looked very much like someone had tried to make it look like a snake-- they wouldn’t be as hesitant.

Black Adder paused in his own patrols around the building to look at what he was protecting that night. The aquarium had gotten in a new exhibit—the world’s largest collection of pearl-holding oysters. There were well over a thousand oysters in the collection, each with a different sized pearl. The oysters had been found together by a wealthy man on a diving vacation on the Great Barrier Reef, and he’d had the sea creatures shipped back to America, and had them donated to the Association of Zoos and Aquariums, which had turned them into one of the most visited attractions to tour the country’s aquariums since the creation of the association. The oyster shells were open, and the pearls proudly on display for every visitor to come and admire, along with other exhibits about the great barrier reef as well as pearl formation. The super hero had discovered that a plot had been created to steal the pearls a few nights previously, and so had staked out the exhibit on this particular night in hopes of preventing not only the theft but any loss of life.

So far, Black Adder had seen no signs of the thieves. He had been dodging both security guards and systems all night, being careful to let his sensitivity to heat and electric currents help him in this endeavor, and he was quickly growing tired of waiting. Still, as long there was a chance that the group would show up, the super hero had to remain.

Black Adder wished he’d brought snacks.

Suddenly, Adder sensed them. As the guards finished their patrol routes for the hour, heading back to the main security office, the area around the exhibit came alive, and the hero’s heat sensitivity allowed him to feel the intruders long before he could see them.

They had all dressed in black, and there were twelve in all. Adder cursed at the number silently. Fighting twelve people at once could be a problem. But the hero knew he had to try. No one in the group had spotted the young hero yet, so stealth was still an option.

Adder reached for his whip. The weapon hadn’t been his first choice, but the other options he’d tried—a short sword and a club—hadn’t worked for him. The club had been too heavy and cumbersome. The young hero hadn’t been able to move very quickly with it on his belt, and had banged into too many rooftops. It wasn’t much better in combat, forcing him to move slower to accommodate its weight. Even though his strength and speed had been enhanced by the suit, the club had still been heavier than his liking. The short sword had been agile enough to keep up with him, and well balanced for the fighting styles the hero preferred, but had sent too many people to the hospital for his liking.

But tonight, the range of the weapon helped the hero immensely. The whip lashed forward, wrapping around the torso of one of the 8 males of the group. Adder yanked backwards, and the man’s body flew past him, the whip pulling back into its hero’s hands while the man slammed into the wall behind him, out cold. The other members of the group of burglars froze, staring in shock at where the man had been only moments before.

Black Adder took the opportunity, and the whip lashed out to grab a female of the group and throw her back to join their friend, before surging forward to grab a third member of the gang and slam their foreheads together. The hero’s suit protected him from damage from the impact, but the thief fell to the ground, unconscious before he hit the ground.

The young superhero straightened, turning to grin cockily at the remaining burglars. “Alright. Now who wants to give up before I kick all of your asses?”

The members of the group looked at each other for a moment, then each started forward toward him, some growling angrily and cracking their knuckles, others pulling out small knives, and one—the biggest, naturally—pulling out a large metal baseball bat.

“Or, you know, we can do this the hard way.” Black Adder stepped back, lashing his whip out towards the nearest person. The tip of the weapon curled around the man’s throat, and the young hero yanked him forward, pulling his arm back and letting loose as the man stumbled close. The punch sent the man flying, hurling his body into two of the female burglars, sending all three to the floor, one of the women dropping her blade in the process.

The burglar group had been reduced to six, and Black Adder liked the improved odds. Grinning wildly, the hero surged forward towards two men who had gotten closer during the hero’s attack. One swung at him with a knife, and Adder had to stop short to avoid the blade. The other man jabbed with his right fist, catching the superhero on the shoulder. The blow didn’t have enough strength for Adder to feel through the suit, though, and the superhero returned the jab with one of his own, catching the burglar across the jaw and spinning him a complete one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn before he fell over unconscious.

Adder’s side exploded in pain, and he spun back to the other man, who had managed to slice through the right side of the hero’s suit and into his skin. Black Adder took several quick steps backwards, using his right hand to feel the wound. The cut itself wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding, and would probably need stitching later. Adder swore, ducking as the other man rushed him with the knife stabbing for his head. The superhero then sprang up and forward, slamming his head into the other man’s stomach, knocking the burglar backwards. The other man fell to his knees, grasping his stomach, and Adder dispatched him with a blow to the back of his head.

“Get him!” The big man wielding the baseball bat yell-whispered, obviously still hoping to not alert the guards. The three other remaining burglars rushed forward, the female and one of the males both brandishing knives. Black Adder back peddled, lashing out with his whip to catch the female with the knife around the leg, pulling on the whip to trip the burglar up, causing her fall backwards. The hero then had to drop the whip as the other knife wielder lunged for his face with his weapon. The other man punched the hero twice in the stomach. Adder twisted on his foot, bringing his other leg close to his body before lashing out with it, kicking the unarmed man squarely in the chest and knocking him backwards. Black Adder then punched the knife wielder in the stomach, forcing the other man to his knees, before dodging another punch from the unarmed man aimed for the hero’s head. The young hero charged forward, grabbing the unarmed man around the waist and slamming him into the wall, before picking him up and throwing him into the knife wielder, knocking both out cold.

Adder heard the metal bat whoosh towards his head too late to stop it, and pain exploded through his head as the weapon connected with his skull, knocking him across the room. The hero let out a loud groan, rubbing the back of his head. The hero started to sit up, only to receive another blow from the baseball bat, this time to his torso. The hero rolled a few more feet, biting his own lip to keep from screaming in pain as the big thug chuckled. The hero’s suit had absorbed a great deal of the impacts from the bat, but he could still feel the injuries inflicted by both bat and knife.

“Not so tough now, are ya, ‘hero’?” The thug prodded him with the tip of the bat, and Adder gritted his teeth as bolts of pain shot through him. The hero rolled away from the burglar, getting to his feet and settling into a fighting stance. “Want some more, huh? I didn’ plan on b’comin’ a murderer tonight, but you ain’t getting’ in my way!” The boss thug charged for him, bat raised for another swing, as Adder lunged forward under his swing. He grabbed the large man by the shirt, picking up up and throwing him with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The thug sailed across the room, a startled cry escaping him before his splashed into one of the massive tanks of water. Adder’s eyes widened in realization, and he raced after the injured man, using the sign declaring the tank’s contents— _Danger:_ _Shark Tank._

Adder splashed into the water with a dive. The instant the hero hit the water, a large shark was on him. The creature’s teeth went straight through the material of the suit and into the young hero’s skin, clamping down on his leg and thrashing to try and take a chunk out of him. Luckily the suit kept the shark’s teeth from cutting too deeply into the hero’s flesh, and Adder kicked his leg to dislodge the shark, the extra strength and dexterity afforded him by the suit allowing him to kick the shark away. Adder spotted the thug below him, sharks already circling around him, and kicked swiftly, grabbing the man’s leg. Just as the hero’s hand closed around the other man’s leg, another shark latched on to the young man’s extended arm. This time, the shark was small—Adder guessed only about five feet to the other shark’s eight—but the creature’s teeth still sank into the suit, leaving more cuts on Adder’s skin. 

Black Adder jabbed the creature in the eye, then kicked turned and kicked, trying to get the thug to the surface quickly. The hero aimed for the side of the tank, and the two reached the side and the surface just as another shark latched on to Adder’s leg and one clamped its jaws onto the thug’s arm. Black Adder and the thug yelled in pain, then he grabbed the edge of the tank, threw the man over the edge, and then launched himself out of the water, both of them collapsing on the ground in front of the tank. Adder dragged himself to his feet as the shark that had been biting him let go to flail wildly on the floor. Security guards rounded the corner, and the hero could hear police sirens rushing for the aquarium.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

“Don’t move!”

Black Adder did not stop, and he did move, running straight for the emergency exit on the other side of the tank, grabbing his whip on the way. Running on pure adrenaline, the young hero hit the emergency exit, the alarms blaring behind him as his whip shot out to grab some unseen purchase so that he could swing away into the night.

A few rooftops and a run down a street later, Black Adder fell onto the cool leather seats in the back of his family’s limo, letting his transformation drop. The young man’s bodyguard, Greg Holdenstat, shook his head. “Bit off a bit more than you could choose tonight?”

“Not even close.” Alabaster Jones Adderton had received the snake miraculous from his family 2 years earlier, on his fourteenth birthday. Every generation of his family had a child who received the miraculous—a pair of cufflinks that, when activated, displayed five bright blue scales—to become the next Snake chosen. It had been that way since one of his ancestors, the Serpent, who had decided to pass the miraculous down through the family. Each new chosen would be trained in combat, then assigned a bodyguard to assist them as they went about being a hero. With previous generations, the heroes’ ranges had been limited, as there simply weren’t fast enough ways to get across the country to deal with major crime threats, but in the modern age, that had changed.  With the family’s affluent wealth, they were able to be anywhere in North America within hours on a private jet, so Black Adder had become infamous in the criminal underworlds across the continent.

Of course, that still didn’t make the hero any more popular with the governments of the countries he operated in. Only Canada had officially recognized him as a hero, and in Mexico the drug cartels had used their influence in the government to have him put at the top of the Most Wanted list. The United States government was on the fence about this new hero, so states across the Union were allowed to make their own rules regarding him, though only New York had— Black Adder had been labeled a hero, and a statue had been erected of him in Central Park.

That hadn’t stopped the hero’s family from keeping his assigned bodyguard. Greg had been with the young hero since the first day, ensuring his safety by being a sort of sidekick on Black Adder’s adventures. Greg had seen Adder through more fights than either cared to talk about, and it had upset him to have to sit this one out. Which might be what prompted the large man’s concern, as he frowned at Alabaster through the still open door. “Are you sure you didn’t bite off more than you could chew tonight? You look pretty beat up-“

“It wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle, Greg.” Alabaster began shrugging out of his overcoat, wanting to cool off- the fight in the aquarium had already made him warm, and the limo was kept hot for both his a Tiberas' sakes, since both were sluggish and tired in any sort of cold. He knew what he looked like to Greg. Alabaster had always been short, and very thin, with pale skin that ran in his family. Jet black hair and bright green eyes- "emerald eyes", as his mother always used to affectionately refer to them, in the rare times that showing love was allowed instead of keeping up appearances- only added to the snake like appearance his angular face gave him, and his canines were already beginning to sharpen and stand out. On a canvas like that, the wounds were bound to stand out and appear more nasty than they were.

That didn't mean they weren't bad. 

“It almosssst wassss.” Alabaster could hear the anger in his kwami’s his as Tiberas coiled on the heated seat that Greg had warmed for him. “You could have been killed, Alabasssster. And we sssstill need you. The world ssssstill needsss you. Ssssssomething big is coming.”

“You keep saying that.” Which was true, the small black kwami with electric blue eyes had been talking about a major event coming ‘soon’, though he’d never pinpointed an exact time.

“Just… Don’t get yourself killed, okay kid- er, sir?” Greg closed the door on the two, then moved to the cab of the car and started the engine.

Tiberas stared at Alabaster for a few more seconds, then curled in on himself, preparing to nap. “That wasss sssstupid. Be more careful, and sssstop getting hurt.”

Alabaster smiled at his kwami’s roundabout declaration of caring, then started to bandage his wounds with the car’s first aid kit as they started the drive for the family mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Four heroes ready! Adder has had his miraculous for a bit, and it looks as though he's got a handle on his situation! Well, on the human aspect of it, anyway.
> 
> As always, thank you so very much to my editor and pre-reader. These two are helping me so very, very much, and not only would this story not be as amazing as it is right now without either of them, it absolutely would not exist! These two have helped me so much, and I couldn't do any of this story without them. I am so thankful that they take the time out of their days and schedules to help me.
> 
> And I can never get tired of thanking all of you! To each and every person reading this, we're ALL glad that you are enjoying this story! As far as we know, something like this has never been written for the Miraculous fandom-- an entirely original cast of characters that are learning more about their universe, and themselves. We hope you'll all stick with us as we keep going, and enjoy every minute of this ride!
> 
> Only three more heroes to introduce! What will they be like?


	6. No Matter What

The entire building was on fire at this point. Tony Cooper had been backed into a corner by the flames, the small cat he had come back in to rescue unconscious in his arms. The young man had tied a handkerchief around his mouth and nose to help filter out the smoke that had permeated the area, and ripped a piece of his shirt off to do the same for the cat.

Tony hoped he had a spare shirt for school.

The young man glanced around as the flames seemed to close in on himself and the cat. Spotting a break in the flames, Tony rushed through it, feeling as the fire licked at his heels. Without thinking, the young man threw out his free hand to grab a wall, hoping to steady himself but instead scalding his hand. “Fuck me, what a way to start a Friday… Why did I agree to this?”

Tony knew exactly why he’d come back for the cat, of course. When the young boy he’d had to carry out of the burning house had reached back for it yelling for a ‘Mr. Bubbles’, the young man knew he’d had no choice. He’d rushed back in, ignoring the distressed yelling of the EMTs that were on the scene, and found the cat in what had once been the upstairs master bedroom.

But when Tony had turned to leave, the house had been almost completely enveloped in the inferno. The young man had run out the through the door to the room seconds before it collapsed, only to find the stairs covered by flames and creaking dangerously. Tony had briefly considered risking them, as he’d left the front door open for an escape route, but a test of the first stair had broken through the wood, and allowed a burst of flames to flare up through the hole.

Tony looked around wildly, trying to find a way out. The walls were covered in flames, and patches of fire dotted the floor. The once nice two-story home had quickly become an inferno, and the young man’s only way out was now cut off.

Suddenly, over the roar of the fire Tony heard a loud crash, followed by the tinkle of glass. Tucking the cat under his left arm, Tony used his other hand to block his face from the lashings of the fire, and fought his way towards the place he thought he’d heard the sound. Not being able to feel his way along the walls, Tony had no idea where his feet were taking him, and was quite surprised to hit a door.

The young man knew that he could not try the handle. Every doorknob he’d seen in the house so far had been made of brass, and hot enough to burn his hand even with a grazing touch. So, coughing as he tried to drag in clean air through the make-shift mouth cover, Tony stepped back, then ran at the door with his shoulder, bursting through it.

The room on the other side appeared to have been another bedroom. Melted puddles of plastic were burning their ways through the floors, a wardrobe had collapsed in on itself and was currently ablaze, a medium-sized bed had been completely consumed by the blaze. And the only window in the room had shattered, the glass shattering and falling all over the floor in the house. Tony ran for the window, pulling the cat in to his body as the young man threw himself out of the window.

Tony knew that he had to make the landing as soft as possible. Holding the cat close to his chest with his left arm, the young man jumped out the window. To be sure he landed on his feet, Tony grabbed the window sill right before his feet left the premises, trying not to cut his hand on the shards of glass still in it. Hoping his timing was right, the young man let go, and prepared his body for landing. As soon as his feet hit the grassy yard of the house, Tony tucked himself into a roll, making sure that Mr. Bubbles was safely clutched close to his body. The impact jarred his body, sending a shockwave of pain coursing through his nerves, but miraculously, the young man managed to roll to a stop without any further injuries than some cuts and bruises, and his burned hand.

Tony stood and glanced around. A small crowd of people had gather in front of the house, but most of them were being held back by police. A crew of firemen had paused in busting down the door to stare at him, and it seemed the world had taken a pause to watch him and see what Tony would do. For a moment, the only sound in the area was the fire consuming the building behind him, and the hoses from the firetrucks pouring water onto the blaze.

“He’s out! Get clear!”

With that, the firefighters rushed away from the house, and the silence was broken. A cheer went up from the crowd as Tony walked towards two people standing beside a small child on a gurney. The child’s parents were in tears as the young man presented the still-unconscious cat to them, and the mother reached out to scoop the limp animal from Tony’s grasp. The father grabbed him by the shoulders, giving Tony an unexpected hug. “Thank you. For saving them both.”

Tony patted the man awkwardly on the back. “Every life is precious, sir. From the youngest child to the oldest person. Even, in this case, a cat. No matter what it takes, I’ll protect every life I can.”

Tony waved off the rest of the family’s thanks, running for his vehicle—a Volkswagen bus he had bought for a steal and restored himself. The back interior of the bus had been converted into a sort of living area, with a small couch/bed, a fold- away coffee table in the center just in front of the sliding door on the side of the bus, and two shelves to the left of it, stuffed with knick-knacks and items of a personal value. The front seat had been reupholstered with a creamy white leather, and Tony had hung a pair of red-and-black fuzzy dice from the rearview mirror. Tony climbed into the rear, and pulled a small suitcase stuffed with clothes he kept underneath for emergencies like this. He pulled a set of curtains—a more recent addition the young man had quickly installed after a very unfortunate incident where a group of female students had caught him changing before school from the rain—and quickly changed into a new set of clothes before climbing into the driver seat.

As he climbed into the chair, Tony spotted a business card for a local pawnshop one of his friends had given him, promising the young man he’d definitely find something worth the price there. Tony had forgotten about the place for almost a month. Checking the time, he shrugged his shoulders, starting the engine and muttering to himself, “Well, not getting any later. Might as well check it out.”

The pawn shop was not too far away from the neighborhood tony was in, so it was a very quick drive to get there. Tony pulled into the almost-empty parking lot in front of the squat, tan building with a sign bearing the name of the pawn shop, _George’s Pawn Shop_ , which promised fair prices and great deals for every customer. Parking beside the only other car there—a red Nissan Altima that he assumed to be the owner’s—Tony opened the door and stepped out of his bus, heading for the door to the shop.

As he walked through the doorway, Tony was struck by an odd feeling. The young boy quickly shrugged it off as nothing, though, as he began looking at the things on display in the pawnshop. The inside of the building was completely lined with shelves containing an assortment of different things, with only a small space beside the door—the only way in or out, Tony noted—reserved for a front desk and the owner of the shop, who looked up from a book as Tony came in.

The owner was a short, thin man with a balding head and thick black square glasses. He gasped, taking in all of Tony’s injuries as the young man started for the back. “Young man, I don’t know where you’ve just come from, but you need to get medicine and bandages on those injuries right now.” The owner came around from behind the counter with a first aid box, shuffling Tony to a leather couch that was on sale. After introducing himself as George while taking out the supplies from the first aid kit, the man asked, “While I do this, you wanna tell me how this happened?”

“Well, there was a fire, sir--“

"You were in a fire and you aren’t in the hospital?”

“No sir, I have school.”

The man looked up at Tony, then sighed and shook his head, bending his head back to the task. Tony looked around the shop while the store owner patched him up. The pawn shop offered a diverse selection. The corner of the store to the right of the door had been cleared of shelving to allow for a furniture section, and an assortment of furniture, from wooden kitchen tables to large overstuffed leather couches, and so many other things. The other side of the door was completely taken up by the cashier’s counter, which also had glass cases to hold the more important of the shops wares, such a jewelry. On the counter-top were a large cash register, and a single spinning tree display, which held a variety of cheap trinkets. The rest of the store’s wares sat on massive shelves that reached to the ceiling.

Tony’s eyes scanned the wares that he could see while George treated his wounds. The store was filled with old knick-knacks and electronics of all sorts, both old and new. Each shelf had been separated into sections, and stuffed with items.

Finally, George stood up, and Tony rose with him “That should help, at least. You really should get to a hospital—“

“Like I said, sir, no time. It’ll be fine, I’ll heal in no time!” Tony flashed the man a smile, but George only muttered while shaking his head.

The store owner walked back to stand behind his counter while Tony headed for the shelves in the back. “I won’t try to convince you, kid, but at least patch yourself up next time. Shit like that’ll get ya killed.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Tony muttered under his breath, giving the owner a nod. The young man hadn’t seen anything interesting in the back as he had scanned it, but Tony wanted to make sure before he left. Pawn shops were always a great place to find things cheaper than normal, in his experience, and the young man had always looked-for deals on things he might want.

Unfortunately, luck didn’t seem to be on his side today, and Tony admitted defeat after his third glance at his watch confirmed that he was late for his second class of the day, and that he would have to hurry if we wanted to make it back in time for the third—his favorite of the day, and the class lunch was held during.

On his way out, however, Tony stopped, his eye caught by something glinting in the display case. A polished gold bear and blank silver plate on a recently repaired thread bracelet sat in the center of the case, and Tony felt drawn to it. As Tony approached, the store owner caught where his attention had become focused. The older man sighed, taking out a ring of keys and unlocking the case to pick up the bracelet and lay it on the counter in front of Tony. “Take the damn thing. It’s been sitting here in this case for thirty years, and it’s more trouble now than it’s worth.” As Tony reached out to take it, George stopped in with a hand, his other pointing a finger to a newspaper clipping on the wall, with the younger man’s face proudly smiling next to an article about rescuing a local boy scout troop that had gotten lost in the town’s woods during a storm. “Just… Keep being you, but be safe about it, Tony.”

The young man grinned widely at George as he took the bracelet from the counter. Tony gave the man a nod, hoping he conveyed all his appreciation in his look. Clutching the bracelet in his hand, Tony raced out of the pawn shop and into his van, placing the item on the passenger seat as he started the engine and left the parking lot.

The drive to the school from the pawn shop was not quick, as the two were on opposite sides of the town from each other. Tony parked in the school parking lot just as the bell to end second period rang, and the young man slipped the bracelet on his wrist before rushing inside and straight to the front office.

Tony had gotten a reputation as a local hero many years before, and his heroic antics had often made him late for school. The administrators and faculty in the office knew this already, and as common an occurrence as his being late had become, Tony had been promised that—so long as his grades remained exemplary—the school staff had no problem with looking the other way on his attendance.

“Late again, Tony? Must have been quite the emergency for you to be coming in this late.”

Tony high-fived the lady behind the desk as he raced past, eager to get to his first class. “Of course, Mrs. Bellamy!”

Tony’s third class of the day was listed as ‘home economics’, and so far, it had been his favorite class. At the start of the year, they had learned about basic sewing. Now they had begun to pick out patterns for a sewing project, though submissions weren’t due until the Monday of the following week. Which was good for Tony, as he’d yet to pick a pattern.

Tony raced into the Home Economics room just as the final late bell rang, and sat down at his usual desk. The teacher gave him a nod before starting her lesson, a detailed explanation on sewing machine safety.

“Shoot, man, what happened to you?”

Tony found himself surrounded by his friends before he could blink. Troy Bellmick, a member of the school’s football team, had asked the question, though all of them were waiting for his answer.

Troy was the largest of the group, at 6’5” and 300 pounds. The huge student was a linebacker for the school’s football team, and a terror of the field. Troy had sat beside Tony the first day of class, and they’d become fast friends. Beside him was Sarah Sarkovich, a short, petite blonde that Tony had met in an art class the year before. Sarah loved to draw and paint, and even now her notebook had a half-finished sketch on it. Rounding out the group and sitting on Tony’s right were Damian Beckham and John Short. Tony had met them both in his first Algebra class. Damian was a tall, thin African American student, and a math whiz. Tony had never met anyone who could solve an algebra equation more quickly than Damian, and after talking on the first day of Algebra, he and Tony had quickly developed a friendship. John, a short and rotund student, and Damian had been best friends since elementary school. John had very fast hands, and was very restless, so he would always fiddle with items on his desk.

Tony swallowed hard, knowing they wouldn’t take the news well. “I, uh… I ran into a burning house to save a kid and his cat.”

“A kid? And his cat? Tony, you could have been killed!” Sarah kept her voice hushed, so the teacher wouldn’t berate them for interrupting the class.

“Yeah, man, let the fire fighters handle that stuff! They got all that equipment to deal with it!” John had actually dropped his pencil when Tony had told them where he’d been injured, and had switched to twirling a pen.

Troy reached out and placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder, the football player’s hand engulfing the young man’s shoulder easily. “You did good.”

“Hey, you four! Stop goofing off and pay attention!” Ms. Herbrowski snapped at them, and all four immediately turned back to the front of the room and began taking notes, though Tony knew the peace wouldn’t last past lunch.

To buy himself a few more moments, Tony rushed for the restroom when the lunch bell rang fifty minutes later, closing himself in a stall. The young man knew there would be a number of people wanting to hear what had happened, and very few of them would be as happy with it as Troy.

Tony had just closed his eyes, thinking about what would happen at lunch, when a light voice interrupted him. “You know, you aren’t easy to keep up with. Especially with as much hiding as I had to do. You could make my job easier, you know. Or at least say hi to me before running into a building full of people and making me hide on my own.”

Tony’s eyes snapped open to see a small, light brown furred humanoid with short round ears and chocolate brown eyes staring at him. “So, hello. I’m Huan. Nice to finally meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Another chapter down! I have to be honest, Tony here is my favorite, mostly because he was the first character I created, and he was such a pleasure to write that I can't wait to keep going with all of these characters! This is the best fanfic I've ever written, and I'm so excited to be able to write it!
> 
> On another note, we're all very sorry that this was so late! This week has been very hectic. I had family in from out of town on Monday to celebrate the Memorial Day weekend, and we only just got this chapter finished. We're going to be a little late with at least the next chapter as well, but please stick with us, we are trying to keep this updates to twice a week, and keep this experience as amazing as possible.
> 
> To anyone who catches the reference in this chapter, please don't spoil it for others, but you're amazing! 
> 
> To all of you, we have some amazing things coming in the future! I don't want to announce them just yet, but please keep an eye on these author's notes for major announcements regarding this series! I'm so excited to reveal them as they come, and I hope you'll be as happy with them as I am!
> 
> Again, thank you so much to my amazing editor and pre-reader. Both of you are so amazing, and so important to me. I'm glad to have you both in my life, and I'm so excited to keep going on this journey with both of you as we keep writing this amazing story. Without both of you, this story would not be possible, and I'm glad that you've stuck with me this far.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who is reading this story! You're all amazing! Please stay with us as we keep going and keep making these stories better! We're so happy to bring you these chapters every week!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. It's A...

Volt Harmony loved to gaze at the stars at night.

Star gazing had become a habit for the young man over the years; no matter where in the country he and his family stopped for the night, Volt would always take at least a moment to glance up at the sky and see the beauty of the world and the night sky. After all, the night could be just as beautiful as the daytime could, and Volt was determined to enjoy both sides of the world.

Of course, Volt was never able to enjoy the serenity for very long, even tonight. “Volt! Come on, you’re going to miss the start of the movie” Volt’s little sister, Serenity, waved to him from one of the two double beds inside the motel room.

Today had been a particularly rough day for the family, however, and they were all tired. The Harmony family was rather famous in the Midwest as far as family bands went, both for the music they played, and for being able to bring a smile to the faces of everyone in a town. But in the town, they had tried to play in that morning, they had been forced to leave by a kind police officer, who was sorry to see them go but very insistent that they do so because of a festival going on in the town. Then, on the way to the next town, where they had planned to stop for the night, the family van had gotten a flat tire, and it had taken a while to fix as they’d had to dig the jack and tire iron from beneath their belongings.

But they had replaced the wheel, and even managed to get into the next town on time to check into the motel. Peter had gone out and purchased a patch for the tire, which they had then put back on in place of the spare tire, and they had all gotten clean and eaten dinner together, even managing to laugh at the terrible jokes Peter liked to tell– Peter absolutely loved to tell puns, almost as much as he loved to hear them, and always had a few in his joke collection, ready to be shared at dinner.

After dinner, the showers started. While they were all careful about trying to stay clean while on the road, they very rarely had any running water for true showers. Normally, they would use buckets of water from rivers if there were any nearby, and they always kept soap on hand. A stay in a motel and having running water for showering was a rare convenience, and one that they were all taking advantage of.

Volt was the third in line for the shower this time, right after his mother and before his father. As he stepped into the bathroom, the young man caught sight of himself in the mirror. Volt had always considered himself short and wiry, since he stood at five feet six inches, and weighed one hundred and thirty pounds, with long arms and legs that looked like toothpicks on his thin frame. Nevertheless, he was well-muscled, with well-defined abs and a hidden strength in his arms. Not many people had ever called his face handsome, with dirty blond hair he and his sister shared that they’d inherited from their father, though he had brown eyes that had come from his mother, unlike Serenity who had their father’s deep blue, a short thin nose from his mother and the shallow cheekbones that the family shared. The entire family had deeply tanned skin from being in the sun practically all the time, and Volt was no exception, completely tanned from head to toe, though his thighs and hips were lighter from not seeing the sun as often.

Volt’s shower went quickly. If the young man wasn’t the last on the shower roster, he would try to hurry his shower, doing everything possible to rush through so that whomever behind him could have hot water. The young man emerged just as laughter erupted from the others, and smiled even though he had no idea what the joke had been. Because the young man knew it had to have been some stupid joke by his father, that had shocked the other two into laughing when they’d missed the obvious punchline. Volt knew that—and he loved that he knew his own family that well.

Their parents had occupied one bed, with their mother Melody laying her head on their father Peter’s chest. Serenity had taken the other for them both, since with only two beds the two would have to share. Neither sibling minded, of course, as they were very close, and the sharing was nothing new, as they’d had to do so in every other motel for as long as either could remember. On the television across from the beds, a movie was just starting. It had become something of a tradition, that every time the family stopped over in a town and stayed in a motel instead of camping out, they would find a movie to watch on the television. Usually, it would be a very old movie that they would find while looking through the channel options, and they would all sit together and watch it until the end, before turning out the lights and going to sleep.

"Hey, guys, what’s so funny?” Volt sat down on the bed beside his sister, the towel still wrapped around his waist.

"Your father was telling us a joke. What was it, honey?”

“Why can’t you arrest a dolphin for its crimes? It doesn’t do them on _porpoise!_ ”

This time, it was only Volt that laughed, but he did so loudly. They punchline to the joke had really caught him off guard, and he was especially fond of puns—something his mother insisted that her children had inherited from their father.

“Man, dad, your puns are terrible.” Serenity threw one of the pillows from their bed at their father, who sat up and caught it easily, grinning.

“What can I say? The places I get them from are rather _fishy!_ ”

“Dolphins are mammals, sweetie.” Melody Harmony pulled her husband back down to the mattress, then hit him with a pillow. The entire family dissolved into a fit of giggles that lasted minutes, until one by one they were all left breathless.

As Peter Harmony rolled out of his wife’s grasp to go take his own shower, Volt took some clothes and followed him into the restroom, changing into them as his father readied his shower, and leaving the towel in the bathroom once more. The young man came back out to find his sister and mother already engrossed in the movie, and smiled to himself as he climbed into the bed beside Serenity and laid down.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, Volt was asleep.

Checkout the next morning was bittersweet. The family had only brought in their instruments and some spare clothing, so packing up wasn’t a problem. The issue arose with actually leaving. None of them wanted to go, as once they left it would be back to camping outdoors.

Finally, Peter Harmony clapped his hands together, getting everyone’s attention. “Alright, fellows, it was a nice evening, but we all knew we’d have to move on in the morning, so there’s no sense delaying the future. Besides, we’ve got another town ahead that needs cheering up, and our music is just what the doctor ordered!”

The others let out a cheer at Peter’s words, and as a family they all trooped from the room and to the front desk to check out. In moments, their belongings were back in place—even Volt’s cello, which was secured firmly to the roof rack of the family van—and the Harmony family band was on the road to their next town.

The drive wasn’t awfully long, but it was long enough to start boring them, even with the radio on. So, to pass the time, Serenity suggested they discuss the set that they would play, which they all wholeheartedly agreed on.

Peter liked to cover older country-western songs any time he could convince the rest of the family to do them, and he always started by suggesting ‘Daddy Frank: The Guitar Man’ because—as he liked to say—the father in the song reminded Peter of himself in some ways. This time, however, there was a thoughtful murmur of agreement from the others, instead of the usual shouting down of the idea.

Any further suggestions Peter might have, however, were interrupted by Serenity and Melody bursting into a squabble. Both loved folk songs from around the world, and the two would always get into a disagreement about which of their favorites the family band would play. The folk songs had never been big to play for the crowds, but a few of them would always draw people in to see the family band. They quickly agreed on two Irish folk songs—‘Whiskey in the Jar’ and ‘Finnegan’s Wake’-- and a popular upbeat hymn, The Lord of the Dance.

The whole family agreed to play these first in the set, then Peter’s song. After another round of discussion, they had all agreed to play a covering of ‘Ring of Fire’, and that one more song was necessary to complete the set list. They weren’t too far from the town—Peter estimated that they had 5 more minutes—and only one more song. Peter and Melody discussed songs in the front seat, trying to determine what might go well with the rest of the songs but Serenity had noticed Volt fidgeting, wanting to say something but holding it in. So she spoke up. “What about the song that Volt wrote for me? ‘A Family is What You Need’?”

The car went silent. Melody and Peter looked back at Serenity in astonishment, while Volt mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to his sister, who nodded at him with a smile. Melody and Peter glanced at each other and smiled, then Peter turned back to the road while Melody looked to the back seat again. “I think that’s a wonderful way to finish up our set, Sunshine. Thanks for the suggestion.”

All Volt could think to say was, “Jivin’.”

The van crossed into the town limits just then, passing a sign that welcomed them into Farroville, and they headed for the center of town. Farroville was a small town, with large, classic American suburbs on the outskirts: White picket fences along the sides of sidewalks, children watched by groups of parents as the raced from one yard to another, massive dogs in yards and fat cats lounging in windows; the town seemed to have been ripped straight from a storybook. As they got closer to the center of town, they started to see short and stout brick buildings that topped out at 3 stories, and large factories—some of which were silent and abandoned, rotting away with age.

Finally, they reached to the center of town, which had been designed to form an actual square. In the center of the square there was a small park with a large fountain in the center, well-trimmed grass, and a small playground. At the four cardinal points sat the mayor’s office, which was a short white-brick building with a small dome that flew an American flag at its peak, a squat brown-brick building that proclaimed itself to be the post office, a large brown brick church with a green roof called the Episcopal Baptist Church of Farroville, and a museum, the largest building the family had seen so far—not the most difficult feat. The rest of the buildings around the square were in the same small brown—brick buildings as the rest of the town, and mostly held businesses.

They pulled to a stop in front of a building with the sign ‘Mel’s Convenience Store’, and began setting up on the corner of the small center square in the center of town. “It must be really convenient to have a store like that in the center of town,” Volt remarked to Serenity as he pulled down his cello, and she laughed and poked his shoulder, shaking her head.

“Now, now, behave you two.” Peter had set up his electric organ, and was smiling as he watched the rest of them set up and get ready to play their songs. Volt set his cello case out in front of them, and Serenity took out the sign they had all worked to make. _Please Leave Any Donations Here._ Then, she sat down, taking out her violin. Melody had her tambourine on her lap, and was getting ready—she was their lead singer normally, and would be singing the first two folk songs.

They began to play, and people around the square stopped what they were doing to look at the family of four playing and singing on the corner of their town. A crowd began to form during the second folk song—‘Finnagen’s Wake’ tended to be rather funny, and their audience was laughing and tapping feet and clapping hands along before the song was a third of the way through.

Peter took over for Melody to sing ‘Daddy Frank: The Guitar Man”, and the crowd listened attentively to his deep baritone as he sang. Then, Serenity and Volt sang ‘Ring of Fire’ together, trading off verses and singing the chorus together in harmony. The number of people in the crowd had grown quite a bit by then, and a pile of money had formed in the cello case while they went through their set. The crowd cheered as they finished ‘Ring of Fire’, and the family all smiled at each other.

Then, Serenity set down her violin, and Volt began to play as low as he could on his cello as she stood. She took a deep breath, and began to sing.

_Serenity: I was always told that life is hard_

_That it’s long and tough and never fair_

_People said to me that happiness_

_Was just a dream, I shouldn’t waste any air_

_On chasing joy, or looking for love_

_but now I know what I need in life_

_Now I know what makes my life complete_

_All: All you need is family_

_To love life and be happy_

_All you need is someone_

_To be there when you’re sad_

_All you need, please take heed_

_A family is what you need._

_Volt: When dark and dreary days have come for me_

_And life is bleak and gray and dim, it’s sad_

_nothing is going well that I see_

_To say that sometimes it gets too much_

_Would not be too far off the right mark_

_But still, I know that we are agreed_

_That a family is all that you need_

_All you need is family_

_To love life and be happy_

_All you need is someone_

_To be there when you’re sad_

_All you need, please take heed_

_A family is what you need._

_Peter: Because life isn’t easy, sometimes not fair_

_Melody: And it’s easy to get down and stay blue_

_Peter: Troubles abound, so take heed and care_

_Melody: There are things we can’t control in life_

_P+M: But life can be a wonderful thing_

_And your future can be bright, so sing_

_All you need is family_

_To love life and be happy_

_All you need is someone_

_To be there when you’re sad_

_All you need, please take heed_

_A family is what you need._

As they finished their song, the entire square erupted in applause. People cheered and clapped and whistled as they stood and bowed. As the family began to pack away their instruments, the crowd dispersed, many of them throwing more money into the cello case.

Serenity and Peter carried the case into the van, and Volt carried his instrument in and set it in the front seat before joining his parents and sister to see how much they’d made. As he got into the back of the van, Volt saw the rest of his family staring at something in Peter’s hand. Getting closer, he could see it was an anklet. There was a design on the either side of a firefly in midflight, with five small citrines lining either one’s back. The band itself was gold, and tapered off in front of the fireflies, slowly getting thicker until it met the other ends of the designs.

“It’s an anklet.” Peter informed his son as Volt sat down across from him.

“What are we going to do with it?” Melody was playing with her hair, a nervous habit she’d developed years ago and had chosen never to break.

“We have to keep it.” Serenity’s voice was adamant.

They all considered the golden anklet for a moment, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Then, Peter came to a decision. “We can keep it if it fits any of us.”

The others all agreed immediately, and insisted that Peter go first. Peter unsnapped the clasp on the anklet, and tried to fit it around his own ankle, but found that it was too small to close properly. The same happened with Melody, who sighed and smiled disappointedly as she handed it off to Serenity. Serenity tried it, but it was too large and loose for her ankle, so she groaned in frustration and handed it over to Volt.

Last came Volt. He took the anklet with trembling fingers, knowing he was the last of them to try it. The young man chose the foot he wanted the ring on. As he slid it on, the anklet seemed to expand in his hand, sliding perfectly around his ankle, and closing with a loud _snap._

The rest of his family cheered, and Peter slapped Volt on the back. The others filed out of the back of the van, off to do things around the town before they left for the next one. Volt kept staring at the anklet, wondering if he had really felt it expand. With a laugh, Volt closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear it. There was no way that an anklet could get bigger or smaller just in the young man’s hands.

As he opened his eyes, a small yellow humanoid with long antennae and two large, yellow glowing eyes was staring at him. “Hi! My name is Rayzz! It’s nice to meet you!”

All Volt could think to say was, “Jivin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Volt was a very fun chapter to write, mostly because I love to write really happy and loving families! They're really awesome, and I loved to write them! Volt's pretty cool too, and I can't wait to right more about him.
> 
> Again, I'm sorry that this chapter was late, but we're still playing catch up! Thank you all for being patient, and we really hope that you all enjoy this chapter!
> 
> The song I wrote into this chapter is a completely original song that I wrote for Volt and his family. The song was rather difficult to write, and it added a huge amount of words to the word count, but I loved making it! I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> The kwami's name is pronounced Ray-zz, for those of you who are keeping track of the pronunciations.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to my anonymous pre-reader and my editor Plaggerism. You've both helped me so much with this story already, and I can't thank either of you enough. You're both completely indispensable to me, and I don't know how I would be able to write this story without either of you! Thank you both so much, and I look forward to continuing to work with you!
> 
> And thank you to all of you who are reading this story! We hope that you are enjoying reading it, and we hope that you'll stick with us right until the very end of this story! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. New Beginning

_You can’t save everyone._

__Amell Aurum often remembered those words his grandfather had told the young man when he was younger, sometimes randomly—like when the two would go fishing, or hiking in the mountains of the northwest United States—and sometimes in the context of the man’s days as an EMT or volunteer firefighter. Every time the older Aurum would say it, he’d get a distant looked in his eyes, as though remembering all of the people that he hadn’t saved—that he couldn’t save, for whatever reason.

Amell and his grandfather had been very close. The younger Aurum’s real father had died when he was young in a car accident caused by a drunk driver, and Amell’s mother had never remarried, instead opting to be a single mother. The life insurance payment had been enough to cover Amell’s father’s funeral and then some, but Amell and his mother had still moved in with grandpa and grandma Aurum, selling their house and many of their possessions. Amell’s mother had become a waitress for a diner in the town, and—still not retired—the young man’s grandmother and grandfather had gone back to working full-time to help support the larger household; Amell’s grandmother as a manager at the local minimart, and his grandfather as an EMT—who still volunteered as a firefighter sometimes.

Amell placed his hand on the lid of the hardwood coffin in front of him. Joe Aurum, Amell’s grandfather, had died from smoke inhalation in a recent wildfire, trying to save a woman who had gotten trapped by the blaze. The two had gotten stuck in a room in the woman’s house without windows, and hadn’t been able to escape. The woman—Mary Anne Dayden, Amell would never forget that name—had been buried earlier in the week, and Amell had attended her funeral as well. Now his grandfather’s turn had come, and the young man was about to say goodbye to his grandfather for the last time.

The funeral had been held in the local Gospel church, where Joe and Hailey Aurum had been members since before Amell’s mother Jada had been born. The weather outside was cloudy and cold. The church had been decorated in mourning colors, and the entire congregation of the church had shown up dressed in the same, as had many visitors from nearby counties and the town who owed their lives to Joseph Aurum. Amell’s grandfather had saved so many people, and had been a huge force in the community, and so many people had come to pay their respects to the older man at his funeral that the church doors had been locked open, and the funeral itself spilled from the doors and onto the lawn of the church itself.

Amell had stepped out of the building during a eulogy given by his grandfather’s best friend, on the verge of tears and needing a moment to collect himself. The young man had wandered over to the self-portrait of his grandfather, and was standing in front of it as people chatted and talked around him, or stood in silence and prayer. Amell’s grandfather had spent months on the piece, and had used a three-way mirror to capture every angle of his face. The result had been an almost-lifelike portrait, cementing Joe Aurum in immortality at the ripe old age of fifty.

Amell could not help but remember how his grandfather had taught the younger man to paint. Instead of a landscape painting, or even painting fruit, Joseph Aurum had made asked Amell to paint a self-portrait. The portrait had been a difficult start, and had taken several attempts to get right using acrylic paint. Amell’s dark African American skin had needed a dark brown, which had stained whenever another layer of paint had run over it, and making the portrait difficult to shadow. Acrylic paint, a rather large nose, high cheekbones, and a somewhat average physique had contributed to the problem, being difficult to accentuate and quickly becoming highlights of the painting instead of features if not done properly. The young man’s jet-black hair and brown eyes had posed an entirely different problem, as the black acrylic paint had been flat and without any character, turning everything he applied it to dull and lifeless. Amell had been forced to mix his own, using opposite acrylic colors to create a suitable palette of paints. And then his mix had started running over his paintings. Though acrylic paint dried quickly, it ran easily if too much was applied to the painting, and it had taken several ruined portraits before Amell had learned the correct way to paint instead of leaving large globs that would run over the rest of the painting.

Amell did not know how long he stood looking at the painting and lost in his own thoughts. In what felt like moments-- but could only have been fifteen minutes—the young man’s mother was tapping on his shoulder, shaking him from his stupor. “It’s time.”

Together, they turned back to the church and headed inside, getting through the doors in time to see the coffin lid close for the final time on Joseph Aurum. The church was silent as the six men chosen to be pall-bearers made their way to the front of the building, and took up the long palls that supported the casket. The priest was standing in front of the coffin as they lifted it, and lead the group as they exited the church, the rest of the crowd falling in behind them as they marched on to the cemetery.

The walk to the cemetery wasn’t actually long, but it felt like an eternity. The church had a cemetery dedicated to it, the entrance to which—a wrought iron 12-foot-high double-gate-- the bars of which were tipped with sharp points, making them look like massive iron spears held together by iron bars—was set in an eight—foot—high brick wall. Both sides of the gate loomed over the procession, silent sentinels to the resting place of the dead. The procession was silent as everyone followed the coffin through the graves. An occasional sob would break through the pallor of the quiet, but it would be quickly swallowed by the cold silence.

The open grave was at the top of one of the only hills in the graveyard. The priest climbed it first, making it to the top well before the coffin bearers, who struggled slowly up the hill with their burden. The caretaker of the graveyard stood leaning against his shovel at the top of the hill, but even he dared not break the silence that had taken over the area, instead opting to watch as the coffin made its slow progress up the hill. The mourners trailed behind, tears on every face as they watched the uphill battle. No one offered their help, however—Joseph Aurum had been insistent that only his six chosen pallbearers touch his coffin.

“Any more than that would be bad luck,” he’d once said,” and the last thing a dead man needs is more bad luck.”

When the coffin reached the top, the caretaker set to attaching it to the winch that would lower it into the ground. By the time the mechanical winch was set in place, the mourners had arrived, taking position in a ring around the grave. The coffin bearers released the coffin, and quickly took their places in the throng as the priest began to read.

Amell found it difficult to concentrate on the burial rights the priest recited, staring at the stained redwood coffin that now held his grandfather’s body as it began to lower into the grave. The young man’s grandfather had done his best to instill in Amell the importance of being a man, and especially the importance of not letting anyone see his tears. So Amell’s face remained dry, though he was on the brink of breaking down.

During the reading of the burial rights, the weather turned. Mist crept across the graveyard, and rain began to fall, slowly at first, but in sheets by the end. People hurried up to the grave, throwing in their handfuls of dirt before scurrying out of the cemetery. Umbrellas popped open as people waited their turn to release their handfuls of dirt over Joseph’s coffin. One by one, the crowd began to disappear, dispersing as each person ran back to their vehicles and drove away. Finally, only Amell, Amell’s mother, the preacher, and the caretaker were left, Amell’s grandmother having had to go back to their car as the funeral had already been too much for the older woman. Amell’s mother walked over to the grave and whispered her goodbye to her father before heading for the car herself, leaving Amell with the priest and the caretaker.

Amell walked over to the grave and ran his free hand over the coffin lid. The dirt in his hands was already soaked from the rain, almost mud, and he squeezed it as he fought back tears. The preacher came over to the young man and put a wrinkled hand on the Amell’s shoulder. “He’s in a better place, son. No one will think less of you for shedding a tear for him.”

With that, the floodgates burst. Amell fell to his knees, tears pouring from his eyes and sobs wracking his body. The preacher and caretaker looked on for a while in sympathy, before the preacher helped Amell to his feet. “It’s time, son. Give the grave its dirt.”

Still crying, Amell threw the ball of mud he’d been clenching in his hand into the hole, and the gravedigger set to filling in what was left. The preacher walked with Amell back to the church, speaking to the young man comfortingly as they walked.

The priest and Amell parted ways at the doors to the church, and Amell joined his mother in the car- a white Nissan that she’d gotten in 2002. The thirteen-year-old car had served her well, and still drove as though it were new, so the family used it as a ‘family car’, and took it whenever they needed to get the majority of the family anywhere in town. Amell had gotten the front passenger seat reserved for himself for the past few years, everyone citing that he’d gotten too big to ride in the back seat. Since Amell had gotten his driver’s license, he’d started to drive the cars more often than he rode as a passenger, but he was still given the front passenger seat whenever he didn’t drive.

The drive back to the Aurum household was made in silence, save for Hailey Aurum’s sobbing. Tears stained all their cheeks, but neither Amell nor his mother gave voice to their sorrow, instead watching the world pass by outside the car and trying not to think. Thinking would only lead to memories of Joseph, and they had to begin moving on, so they tried to put him out of their thoughts as much as possible.

The Aurum household was located on the western outskirts of the town of Road’s End, Idaho, just at the base of the Rocky Mountains—and on the completely opposite side of town from the Gospel church. That didn’t mean very much—in a town of less than 2000 people, the ‘other side of town’ took ten minutes to reach, maybe—but it was still enough of a drive that Amell almost screamed in frustration halfway through the ride. The young man was still trying to hold back his sobs, and his tears, and it was beginning to take a toll on him, especially with nothing else to do in the car besides get lost in his thoughts and emotions.

Amell did not like being stuck with his thoughts and emotions on days like today.

As soon as they pulled into the driveway, Amell got out of the car. He held the umbrella for his grandmother and mother as they walked to the front door, keeping them all dry as they made their way to the front door. The Aurum house was a large two story wooden house, with the outsides painted white that contrasted with the tar-black roof. The door itself was a dark, brick red, and squeaked as it opened.

When everyone was inside, Amell took off his shoes and put the umbrella away, then rushed upstairs to the attic, where his grandfather’s things were waiting to be sorted. The attic had been a sort of miscellaneous storage space for several years, with Amell’s grandfather being the biggest offender. The space was stacked high with boxes, with scattered pieces of furniture mixed in, and only a slight path cleared so that someone could squeeze through the stacks to get to boxes or a small clearing beneath the circular attic window. Joseph had left everything to Hailey in the event of his death, and Amell’s grandmother had insisted on going through his things to decide what could be kept and what they would get rid of, to clear up space in the attic. They three of them—Amell, Jada, and Hailey—had sat down to look through boxes several times, but had been forced to stop as Hailey had broken into tears and sobs and had needed to leave the room.

Now Amell was determined to get started on the project himself. The young man walked through the stacks of boxes to the clearing beneath the attic window, and pulled the pull-chain to turn on the naked single bulb that served to light the attic. Then, Amell pulled a box from the top of the nearest stack, unfolded the lid, and opened it.

The box Amell opened was filled with ties. The young man pulled the mass of ties from the box, looking at each one. Some were too ugly to keep—Amell particularly shuddered at the lime green one that had jolly Santa Clauses on it—and some had been eaten away at by moths, but some were decent enough to keep, and Amell happily sorted the ties into keep and throw away piles. He was about to move on and put the empty box out of the way when he noticed it wasn’t quite empty yet. An ornate black box sat at the bottom of the box, right in the center.

Amell wondered how he’d missed such a thing as he pulled it out and opened it to see what was inside. The young man’s eyes widened in shock as the box opened to reveal a bolo tie. The slide clip was solid gold, shaped like the head of an eagle with five jade feathers in a fan shape beneath. The bolo tips were also mad of gold, and the cord seemed to be made of silk. Amell stared at the bolo tie for a moment, running his hand over the intricately carved eagle in wonder.

The young man rushed downstairs, where his grandmother and mother were sitting on the couch. Both seemed to have stopped crying, though their eyes were red from the activity. Amell held up the tie, and they both looked at in, then him. “Grandma, can I have this? I found it in the attic…”

Hailey Aurum considered the young man for a moment, then nodded. “Your grandfather would have liked the idea of you having that.” Amell smiled, and ran up to kiss his grandmother on the cheek. The young man then rushed to his bedroom, putting on the tie so he could admire himself in the mirror.

Just as Amell put on the tie, the sun cut through the clouds. The young man looked outside, smiling, glad there would be no more rain. Figuring it was time to change out of his funeral clothes, Amell walked to his closet, taking out a t-shirt and a pair of pants. He turned to put them on his bed—and gasped.

A beam of sunlight shown through his window, on the small humanoid with a beak shaped nose, sky blue piercing eyes, and what looked like feathers. “Greetings. I am Acesternia, but you may call me Ace.”

Amell dropped his clothes, staring openmouthed at the small humanoid. He looked out the window, following the sunbeam, then back at Ace, flicking back and forth several times. Then, the young man walked toward Ace and his bed, a smile forming on his face.

 _No_ , he thought _, you can’t save everyone. Life can end at any time—sometimes even before you take your last breath. But sometimes, when one part of your life ends, you can find yourself a new beginning._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh! I'm sorry that this took so long! But, on the bright side, this is the last introduction chapter! We now have all seven of our new heroes, and they're all ready to go and save people! Let's just hope they're up to the task...
> 
> Amell was the most difficult out of all of the characters to write, because I didn't have any clue about who he was before this chapter! He was so fun to explore and flesh out, and I so enjoyed writing him! All of these characters were fun to introduce, really, and I can't wait to flesh them out with all of you!
> 
> Now then, for a few announcements. First, we now have a tumblr blog for this story now! From it, you can find out information about what's going on with the story, any announcements that we might need to make, fan art, and so much more! Here's the link: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/miraculouseven ! Come join us! Now then, for the next announcement: We will only be updating once a week for a while! We regret to do this, but the twice a week schedule was putting a strain on us. So, until further notice, updates will only happen once a week.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to my wonderful editor and pre-reader! My editor has helped me so much with all of these character, and without him, I would not be able to do this. I can't thank him enough for all he does for us, so thank you so much Plaggerism! And thank you to my amazing pre-reader! Without her proof reading this and ensuring that its ready to be published, this story would definitely not be as wonderful as it is. Though she wishes to remain anonymous, I'd still like to thank her!
> 
> And thank you to all of you reading this! I hope that you'll stick with us as we continue to follow this story until it's end!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	9. Heroes Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes come to terms with their newfound destinies...

“So, you’re a… what?”’

“A kwami,” Ict’laa said again, still cheerily, despite it being the fourth time she’d explained the situation to her chosen. “It means quantic god! I am, for all intents and purposes, a tiny godling!” Ict’laa flew over to hover in front of Zoe, who was still staring at the kwami in shock. “I am linked to the pins you’re wearing—which, if I can break off-topic for a moment, I have never seen worn in that fashion! Very interesting style choice and I must say I like it—and when you put on the pins and I became linked with you, we became partners!”

* * *

 

“Partners in… what, exactly?” Ventus had quickly ridden home, stabling Whirlwind and brushing him down—because even in his shocked state, the young man put his duties first and foremost—before taking Tapia up to his room, a mid-sized apartment built over the garage of the three-story ranch house. There, the young man had begun his questioning, and the kwami had answered while it explored his room, every now and then asking a question of her own—as Ventus had quickly found, the small creature was female, and was very quick to remind him of the fact if the young man slipped up—about some of the things Tapia found as she flew around his room.

“In being a superhero! What is this big box with a glass mirror in it? Are those people trapped inside there?”

* * *

 

“A superhero?” Bianca looked at the small white kwami skeptically. After spotting the spider-like kwami, the young girl had put as much distance between herself and the creature as possible before starting to question Silidri.

“Yes. With the brooch you now have, I can use my godly powers to transform you, enhancing your strength, speed, endurance, and senses. Of course, there are side-effects…”

* * *

 

“Yes, yes, I remember. You remind me of thisss at least every-“Alabaster clapped his hands over his mouth, but it was too late, and Tiberas turned to smile smugly at him. The young hero sighed. “I remember the speech-“

“It is not about remembering it, it is about understanding! You need to understand that as long as you have and are using that miraculous—you will slowly continue to take on the aspects of a snake. With a human’s short life span-“ Alabaster shot Tiberas a glare, which the kwami returned as he continued “-most of the wielders I’ve had have not developed more than two or three snake traits, though to a one they were all immune to poison.”

* * *

 

“So, I get super powers and I’ll start acting more like a bear, you say? I don’t see much of a downside here.” Tony and Huan were back in the young man’s van. After the incident in the bathroom—during which Tony had splashed water on the small kwami to scare him off, resulting in a wet godling and a scolding for Tony; starting with, “I’m not a giant flying rodent, you dolt!” and going on for a minute—the young man had put Huan in his pocket and walked them both back out to the van, where they’d locked themselves inside and Tony had sat down, eager to question the tiny godling.“Yes, most do, right up until the urge to hibernate sets in. Upon transforming, you will find yourself in a suit that should give you extra protection against most threats, and you will be imbued with my power, causing you to start taking on the qualities of the miraculous animal. In this case, a bear.”

* * *

 

“A firefly? Does that mean I’ll be able to fly?” Volt’s eyes were dinner plates as they fixed on the kwami.

Rayzz sighed and shook his head. “Why do they always ask that first?” The small godling flew to hover in front of his chosen. “Yes, you’ll be able to ‘fly’ when you’re in the costume. But if you change back in midair, you could get hurt. Or worse…”

The two had snuck away from Volt’s family and the prying eyes of the townspeople before Rayzz had felt comfortable talking. Volt had insisted his family were trustworthy, but Rayzz was adamant that no one—not even the young man’s family—was to know of the existence of kwamis or Volt’s new status as a superhero.

Volt hadn’t been happy with the decision.

 

* * *

 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘great power comes with great responsibility to not get yourself killed’ or whatever. I get to fly?” Volt’s eyes were as big as dinner plates as he grinned at his kwami, and Rayzz sighed.

“Yes, you can fly. But flying is just one part of this! You’re going to be a superhero!”

* * *

 

“A superhero? You mean like Black Adder?” Amell’s voice was flooded with skepticism.

The two had settled on Amell’s bed, with Amell sitting at the foot of the mattress, his feet shuffling nervously on the carpet. While the kwami, having made a dip in one of the young man’s pillows that the godling had settled into, eyes locked on Amell’s.

“Black Adder?” The kwami’s head cocked to the side, golden eyes curious though his face didn’t betray anything.

“Yeah, he’s a… Like a snake themed superhero? He pops up all over the country, saving people and stopping crime, but no one is sure how to feel about him because he never talks to anyone, like doing T.V. interviews or anything. In fact, I had to look for hours on the Internet to find out his name!” Amell chuckled, then noticed his kwami’s confused look. “What’s wrong?”

“’T.V.’? ‘Internet’? I have knowledge of what nets are- my last chosen liked to catch butterflies with them- but what do the letter ‘t’ and the letter ‘v’ have in common? And why would they contain any interviews? Letters do not do such things! And how does one ‘enter’ this ‘net’?”

 

* * *

 

“This… Black Adder, does he wear a special costume, have special powers, and the traits of a snake?” Ict’laa asked, her eyes on her new charge. Zoe had finally stopped staring at the kwami, and had taken to sitting on the floor, her legs crossed beneath her as she stared out her window lost in thought.

“…Black Adder? Did I mention-? Oh! Right. Well, no one really knows a lot about him.” Zoe’s hand wondered while she was lost in thought and found a new nervous habit in rubbing gently over the small gold pin she wore at her hip. “He usually only strikes at night, in darkness or whatever. He must be pretty technical or something, because-“

“Technical?”

 

* * *

 

“Yeah, he’s good with computers and such.” Ventus had managed to calm his own kwami down enough to get Tapia to stop darting around the room and instead leisurely float in front of the television.

“Oh, that weird box you told me about earlier? He is good with attacking people with those?” Tapia glanced over at the Ventus’ computer, giving it a critical once over. “It does not seem like it would make an effective weapon.”

Ventus shook his head. “You’d be surprised…”

 

* * *

 

“Any any rate, that isn’t what I meant.” Bianca had returned to admiring her broach in her mirror as she spoke with her kwami. The young woman had decided that panic was not that answer in this situation but had been unable to figure out how else to respond. So, instead, she had simply gone back to a situation she understood—new jewelry.

“The what did you mean, dear?” Silidri was admiring Bianca’s dress. The small creature had caught the strap for the dress between her limbs and was rubbing the material against her skin. “Mmmm, so soft…So nice…”

 

* * *

 

“I just mean that he can use technology to his advantage. Usually to stay hidden from the public.” Tony had taken Huan into a stall. He knew that they wouldn’t be able to talk privately here long, but the young man had needed some time to come to terms with the fact that a small creature had suddenly appeared from nowhere.

“So he uses devices to stay hidden? I have heard tales of those that use new developments in technology to hide themselves. In Japan many centuries ago, such were called the ninja.”

“Wait, you got to work with a ninja?”

 

* * *

 

“At any rate, yeah, so, Adder’s been around for like, a bunch of years, but no one knows anything other than that he saves people.” Volt had found a tree stump to sit on, and had finally seemed to forget about flying. For the most part. “Well, saves people and stops crime.”

“That is very interesting. We had an Adder in my time as well, but-“

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. So, like, you seem pretty ancient or whatever, and you said you’re thousands of years old, but if you’ve been around so long, why don’t you know anything about the modern world?”

“We- or at least, I- haven’t been awake in… You said that it was two thousand and sixteen A.D? I have not been awake in over a century. My last owner was forced to relinquish me, and I was put into a deep slumber to await my next wielder.”

Volt’s eyes were blown wide. “So you’ve been asleep for a hundred years?”

Rayzz nodded. “More or less.”

 

* * *

 

“But that is not the issue right now.” Ace flew to face Amell. “It is time. You have to decide. Are you ready for this responsibility?”

“Right now?” Amell took a step back, his hands coming up defensively as though to ward off an attack. “But I’m not ready! How can I decide that now?”

“Because it’s time. Because the first hard decision as a hero is whether or not to be a hero. You have to decide now, whether to accept this responsibility. You have to decide. Are you a hero?’

 

* * *

 

Zoe took a deep breath and stood up. “You’re right. How do we do this?”

               

Ict’laa smiled and flew to float in front of her charge’s face. “It’s easy! To activate the miraculous and your powers, all you have to do is say-“

 

* * *

 

Ventus stared at his kwami, who was lounging in midair. “That’s all I have to say to activate my powers?”

Tapia nodded, flipping herself upright in the air. “Yes! After that, I will go into the miraculous, and my power will give you your superpowers! After that, you’ll be able to fight crime, or stop evil, or whatever might come up!

 

* * *

 

“But that seems so simple!” Bianca’s head was spinning. Her entire life, superheroes had gotten their powers or activated their abilities in complicated and somewhat unbelievable ways. And now her new kwami friend- who was also apparently to be her partner to fight crime- had made the process sound mundane, an easy task.

“But of course, doll! Activating your powers is simplicity itself! Using them may be slightly more… complicated, but I’m quite sure that you will master them in no time!” Silidri ran a limb gently through Bianca’s hair admiringly. “Such lovely hair, darling… You must care for it well.”

 

* * *

 

Alabaster’s head snapped up as an alarm rang out from a jewelry store they were passing. An elderly voice cried out, “No, please! Don’t hurt us!”

“… Time to transform.” The young hero stood, even though the limousine was still moving, already reaching for the discarded overcoat his cufflinks were pinned in.

“I have not had very long to recharge. You won’t have much time,” Tiberas warned.

Alabaster’s face was grim, though a smile of amusement played at his lips. “It will be long enough.”

 

* * *

 

“And you’re sure that this ‘transformation’ is that simple? I don’t have to, I don’t know, duck into a phone booth every time I want to become a superhero?” Tony was bouncing around the inside of his van excitedly, but there was still a note of doubt in his voice. The young man hadn’t ever considered himself hero material, and of course, Huan’s explanation sounded more magical than Tony liked.

“Yes. Of course, it is up to you to decide how the costume will look, what weapon you will have, or-“

 

* * *

 

Volt’s eyes lit up. “Do I get a transformation sequence?”

Rayzz looked at Volt in confusion. “A… transformation sequence?”

Volt nodded vigorously. “Yeah! Like, will I be able to do a cool dance while I transform or whatever?”

The small kwami stared at the young man for several long moments, before nodding slowly. “Yes, I suppose… You could technically transform however you wanted. You control the transformation, so…”

“Jivin’.”

* * *

 

Amell took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Ace watched him, the kwami’s face completely blank. The young man began to pace around the room, his thoughts in a whirl trying to process everything his new kwami partner had said.

Suddenly, Amell stopped, and faced Ace. “If I do this, I can help people? Save them?”

Ace’s head cocked to the side. “Yes, that would be the point of being a hero, Master?”

“I told you not to call me that.” Amell grabbed his hairpin and spun away from the small creature. That single thought repeated in his head. ‘I can save people.’

You can’t save everyone. Amell’s grandfather’s voice echoed in his head.

“But I can save more people like this.” Amell let his hands drop, and slowly faced Ace.

“What do I say?”

 

* * *

 

 “Pincers out!”

 

* * *

 

“Let’s howl!”

 

* * *

 

“Eyes open!”

 

* * *

 

“Let’ssss slither!”

 

* * *

 

“Fur on!”

 

* * *

 

"Let's shine!”

 

* * *

 

“Feathers fly!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out! After the last chapter, things took a turn for the worse for all of us here on the Miracle Seven team, but things have improved for all of us, so now we're back- not from outer space, unfortunately, but writing? Definitely- and we'll try to start updating regularly again! Thank you for your patience, and I hope you'll all join us once more for this wild ride!
> 
> We still have our tumblr up! Here you'll find what's going on with the story, any announcements that we might need to make, fan art, and so much more! Here's the link: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/miraculouseven ! Come join us there!
> 
> As always, thank you so much to my wonderful editor and pre-reader! My editor has helped me so much with all of these character, and without him, I would not be able to do this. I can't thank him enough for all he does for us, so thank you so much Plaggerism! And thank you to my amazing pre-reader! Without her proof reading this and ensuring that its ready to be published, this story would definitely not be as wonderful as it is. Though she wishes to remain anonymous, I'd still like to thank her!
> 
> And thank you to all of you reading this! I hope that you'll stick with us as we continue to follow this story until it's end!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! What a beginning, right?
> 
> Well, here we are, a fanfic that uses completely original characters! We're going to America, and we're going to explore the world of the miraculous a little more in depth, and hear a story about another set of miraculous holders.
> 
> I'm going to be doing this every chapter, so please be ready: I would really like to thank my editor Plaggerism, who worked very hard to make sure that this prologue was perfect, and has promised to help me every step of the way as we go through the story of the Miracle 7. Without him, this story really would not be possible! As well, I would like to thank my pre-reader- who asked to remain anonymous for now- who did one last read through of the prologue before I posted it!
> 
> And lastly, I would like to thank everyone reading this! We hope that you'll stick with us until the end!


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